


Broken Boundaries

by Guccipriano



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 76,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guccipriano/pseuds/Guccipriano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is the youngest recruit the Academy has ever seen. Godlike reflexes and hawk eyes make him a natural gunner assigned to fly the futuristic ship with technology so advanced it’s still classified. But it takes a two-man crew and Harry, the lone wolf, must have a partner.</p><p>On his first day he meets Tomlinson, the most dangerous man at the Academy. The ice blue eyes and scarred face of the older cadet aren’t enough to scare Harry. Nor are the rumors that Tomlinson killed his last partner. But when he finds out they are to be a team, his anxiety starts to mount.</p><p>Tension climbs to a breaking point when Tomlinson informs him that in order to fly the Needle he and Harry must have their bodies pressed together in a dance of sensual intimacy that makes the sexually straight Harry angry and uncomfortable.</p><p>Tomlinson must master Harry completely and break down his physical and emotional boundaries. The only thing that will keep them alive is their partnership—any space between them means certain death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Broken Boundaries](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/171118) by Evangeline Anderson. 



> This story is not at all mine. I'm only doing the adaptation from Evangeline Anderson's book 'Broken Boundaries' so all credits to her.  
> Also, the cover is edited by me but the background is a drawing from Fruzsina Majer (meuphrosyne) you can find her on Deviantart.

 

Large warm hands touched him, caressed his back, stroked his sides and eased him onto his stomach. Large hands. Warm hands. Masculine hands.

Harry felt a surge of fear mixed with desire as those hands coaxed his legs apart. He didn't want to do this, he told himself. Didn't want to go this far. But he felt powerless to stop the other man, the man who was touching him, stroking him. And despite his fear he could feel his cock pulsing against the mattress under him, pulsing in time with his heart in a rhythm of pure desire.

 

" _You want this_." The man who was touching him spoke at last. "You want this, Harry, don't try to deny it. You want me in you. _Fucking you_."

"No," Harry denied it in a voice that cracked uncertainly. "No, I-I don't like other guys that way. I'm serious, man —get off me." But even as he was protesting he could feel the hands moving around the sides of his body. He lifted his hips eagerly, making room between his pelvis and the mattress so that the other man could touch him, hold his throbbing cock in a firm, masculine grip. He groaned softly into his pillow as the man began to stroke him from root to tip, using a slow, deliberate rhythm that told Harry he knew exactly what he was doing and wasn't planning to stop anytime soon.

"Admit it." The man's voice was deep and somehow familiar. "Admit what you want. What you need. Tell me you want me to fuck you, Harry."

" _No!_ " Harry struggled briefly but the man only tightened his grip on Harry's shaft and used the momentum to spread his thighs wider. Harry gasped when he felt a hard, warm chest settle agaisnt his back and another hand beginning to spread the vulnerable cheeks of his ass.

" _Yes_ ," the voice whispered in his ear. "This is what you need, even if you won't admit it. A thick cock in your sweet virgin ass. You need a man in you —topping you, owning you. You need this, Harry."

"Please..." There were tears pricking behind Harry's eyelids and he struggled to hold them back. But even the hot shame broke over him, his cock in the man's warm palm still wouldn't go down. He felt the man shift on top of him and then a blunt, moist probe pressed against the entrance to his body. The other man's cock, he realized with a shock. It was poised to penetrate him at any moment. In fact, he could feel the broad, plum-shaped head sliding into him even now, breaching his defenses, stretching his narrow opening, with its thickness.

"Just relax," the deep voice ordered.

" _God_ , please no...no!" he begged as the man continued the slow, inevitable thrust into Harry's body. "Please, I don't want to...don't want this. _Get off me!_ "

"If you don't want it then why are you still hard? If you don't want it then why are you opening up for me so easily?" the deep voice demanded in his ear. And to Harry's horror, the man was right. He could feel his cock throbbing harder than ever and despite the stretching pain of entry, he could feel himself yielding to the thick invader, relaxing enough to let the other man into his body, trying to be open enough to accommodate the other man's cock as it drove deep inside him. He could feel the other man's hips flush with his buttocks now and knew he was all the way inside, filling Harry completely. Owning him as he had promised.

"I'm not like this," he whispered, feeling the hot, salty tears spill into his pillow, even as the cum begin to spill out of his cock in hard, short bursts.

"Yes, you are. And the sooner you accept it, the better," the deep, familiar voice told him. "So just relax and let me fuck you."

"No, no...please-

 

 

**...**

 

 

"Wake up," a deep voice ordered. _The same voice that had been in his dream?_ Harry wasn't sure.

"Wha...?" He looked around the darkened room blearily, uncertain of where he was.

"It's just a bad dream," the voice told him softly. "Don't worry, Styles.You haven't been fucked. _Yet_."

"Haven't been—?" Harry woke up completely with a start, his heart pounding, his cock painfully hard between his thighs. _God, what was that dream?_ The one he kept having —the one that wouldn't leave him alone? He rolled over restlessly and touched the hard, warm, masculine back of the man beside him by accident. Part of him wanted to stay there, wanted to share the warmth and companionship of the man in his bed but he knew it was wrong, sick to want those things. Reluctantly, he rolled away, trying to put space between them, trying to forget the demanding heat between his thighs as his cock ached for the contact he denied it.

 

 _I'm not that way_ , he told himself, trying to make himself believe it. _Not that way. Not that way._

 

After a while he drifted off to sleep again, remembering where this had all begun a little more than three weeks before...


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaius portrayed as Ed Sheeran; Burns as Liam Hemsworth and Harry and Louis as themselves of course; Louis being a bit taller than Harry though,

"Welcome to the crazy moon-side shithouse." A red-haired guy with a face full of freckles held out a hand, much too big for his gangly frame, to help Harry out of the transport.

"The what?" Harry took the offered hand, returning the smile the red-haired guy flashed at him uncertaintly. He estimated that the redhead was actually a lot older than he looked —older than Harry by a couple years at least. But then Harry was one of the youngest recruits on record at the Academy.

"The crazy moon-side shithouse. You know..." The redhead shrugged boney shoulders. "It's the Lunar Academy of Excellence so they started calling it the Looney Academy of Excrement and that just kinda turned into the crazy moon-side shithouse. Only now everybody pretty much just calls it the shithouse. Makes sense, right? I'm Gaius, by the way."

"Harry," Harry said as their grip turned into a handshake. "I'm new."

"I know." Gaius' ugly, good-natured face broke into a grin. "The director sent me to show you around. You got here just in time for lunch."

"Really?" Harry looked at his chronometer where quarter past nine (9:15) was blinking in red holo numbers. "It's, uh, closer to lights out my time."

"Yeah, but you gotta remember that Earth time is different from Lunar time. You're off by a couple of hours. Believe me, you'll really feel it by tonight when you've been up for like fourteen hours straight. But you'll get used to it." He clapped Harry on the back and reached down to grab the standard issue dull blue duffle that held the most of Harry's personals. "Come on, I'll show you around. You'll sleep in the newbie dorm tonight unless you get your partner assignment right away."

"Partner assignment?" Harry followed his new friend down the long, narrow metal corridor. The only decoration was a series of lighted dots that ran along the floors and wall. The Academy wasn't actually on the surface of the moon, but in a large space station orbiting the Lunar surface. Other than the few viewer bays scattered throughout the structure, it offered strictly no-frills accommodations. Cadets didn't come here for the view or a luxurious vacation.

 

The lunar Academy of Excellence had originally been established after the first Saudeber invasion fifty years before. The Saudebers, commonly called Lobsters because of their resemblance to the Earth curstacean, had devastated the Earth's surface before being driven back by the small but dedicated space crew who happened to get lucky enough to destroy the queen ship at the center of the Saudeber ship cluster. They hadn't been back since, but the central government of Earth had established the Academy to train the finest young men available into a space fleet ten times the size of the one that had repelled the initial alien invasion. But now that fifty years had passed, fear of the Lobsters was a distant memory and the academy was quite simply the fastest route to a Fleet commission. And that was where Harry was headed —straight to the top.

 

"Sure, partner assignment," Gaius' voice broke into his train of thought as their boots echoed down the metal corridor. "Everybody at the Academy has a partner. You wanna be a Needle pilot, right?"

Harry ran his free hand through his thick, shaggy brown curls. "Uh, a needle gunner, actually. How'd you know?"

Gaius shrugged. "'cause it's what everybody wants to be when they come here. 'Course, most of us wind up playing navigator or jump-drive engineer on one of the big cruisers instead when it comes time for commissioning, but that's what everybody thinks they're gonna be when they step off the transport."

"I don't just think, I _know_ ," Harry said with certainty. "That's why the recruiters came for me, because they needed more gunners. I can hit anything — any target, no matter how fast or small. Just let me see it once and I can blow it out of the sky." Then, realizing he sounded like he was bragging, he shut up abruptly. But the good-natured Gaius didn't seem to take offense to his certainty.

"Sure, I know, that's how the recruiters get everybody here —they tell 'em they need more Needle pilots or gunners. It's fast, dangerous, exciting work and it'll get you the highest status and the brightest rank —if you make it. So you can't wait to get here. But the minute you do, it's all, 'Oh, sorry, son, our tests show you'd be better in the engine room than behind the control panel.' And that's it for you, you're stuck in engineering classes for the rest of your stay."

" _What?_ " Harry felt himself go cold. "Tell me you're not serious, man. I could have stayed Earth-side and taken a scholarship to West Point but I picked this instead because they promised—"

"They'll promise you anything to get you up here. Then once you sign on the dotted line you're theirs and they can do anything they want. Don't worry." Gaius grinned at him. "It's not all that bad. This is still the fastest way into space —it's a guaranteed commission if you don't make some boneheaded mistake and get yourself killed or flunk out."

"Get yourself..." Harry shook his head in irritation. "Look, whatever. I get that you're stuck once you sign their papers but what does any of that have to do with getting a partner?"

"Oh, sorry, that's me, always going off on a tangent. Turk always says I can talk my way around anything in circles without ever actually getting to the point."

"Turk?" Harry frowned.

"Turk's my partner," Gaius said carelessly. "My roommate. He'd be here too if he wasn't a lazy bastard." He laughed. "Probably still lying in his bunk jerking off to his latest holo-porn mag."

"So he's...they assigned him to you? They, uh, put you two together?" Harry raised one eyebrow, his question still unanswered.

"Sure did." Gaius nodded. "And as for partners, everybody gets one. That's in case you actually _do_ get to be a Needle pilot or gunner. It's a two-man ship, ya know. Close quarters and you're joined to the other guy by a neural net so you have to get along. But whether you make Needle or not, your partner stays with you for your entire time at the Academy. In fact, some guys get commissioned to the same ship in the Fleet after graduation —that's mostly the Needle crews though. They get, uh, _extra close_ , if you know what I mean." He raised both eyebrows comically and swished one limp-wristed hand through the air. "Not that you'd catch me sayin' it out loud since they all out-rank me. But everybody knows it."

"Really?" Harry had no idea what he meant and wasn't sure he wanted to. He had plenty of friends Earth-side but none he couldn't bear to be parted from. None he could imagine wanting to spend the rest of his career with.

"Yup." Gaius nodded grimly. "That's why being on a Needle crew isn't really the shit it's cracked up to be. I mean, don't get me wrong, they've got the highest status and rank and all that but there's something just a little bit off goin' on there. I mean me and Turk are friends but..." He shrugged, leaving the thought unfinished. "Anyway, there's a saying here at the shithouse— 'A Needleman shares his life with his wife or girlfriend but he shares his skin with his partner'."

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked weakly, thinking that it sounded really weird. None of the recruiting officers who had come to sweet-talk him had ever mentioned anything about some strange, lifelong bond with another guy if he made it to a Needle crew. Harry had always considered himself a lone wolf —not part of the herd. He had a group of loosely knit acquaintances he had grown up and gone to school with. He had left all of them behind Earth-side, and that was how he liked it. Hell, he'd even left his girlfriend Amanda behind and wasn't sweating it. "How...uh, how do they pick a partner for you?" he asked, figuring it was too much to hope that he'd at least be able to choose his own partner.

"The tests they give you before you sign up to come aboard. Those damn tests tell 'em everything they need to know about you and then some."

"I wondered what the point of those was." Harry frowned, remembering some of the weird questions he'd had to answer. Like, ' _if you had to kill someone, would you use a blaster, a knife or your bare hands?'_  Weird shit like that. At the time it hadn't made any sense but he guessed a few of the questions might have shed some light on his psyche. But if they had, then the people grading the tests were sure to know by now that he wasn't interested in having a partner.

"Everybody gets one," Gaius said, correctly interpreting the look on his face and his next question. "Everybody —even the most anti-social sons of bitches ever pulled Lunar-side. And we have some, you better believe it. If you're that kind of guy, they just put you with the closest match. Of course, if you pretty much get along with anyone, then that's different. I got Turk because he's a moody bastard half the time." He shrugged. "But I don't mind. We get along okay."

 

Gaius did seem like the kind of guy who could tolerate anyone, but before Harry could frame a new question, his guide was on to another topic of conversation.

 

"That band leads to the commissary, the mess hall, rec hall. Oh, and the shears —the barber shop," he explained, pointing to a strip of purple lights that led off the main hallway and down another long corridor. "The shithouse can be like a maze if you don't know your light system. Green leads to the barracks, which is where we're going now." He stopped, frowning at Harry. "Unless you wanna go by the barber first."

"Why would I want to do that? Is it, uh, protocol or something?" Harry eyed the inch-long dark red stubble on Gaius' skull and ran a hand uneasily over his blondish-brown curls. His mum and Amanda had both been after him to get a haircut before he left but he hadn't wanted to. He was comfortable being shaggy and he found that people tended to underestimate him when he looked a little messy —something that could work in his favor later on when he got a chance to show how sharp he really was.

"No, it's not anything like that. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. But you're gonna stick out if you don't." Gaius nodded at a group of guys who happened to be walking down the long corridor that led to the mess hall and commissary and Harry saw that they were all wearing the same severe hairstyle as Gaius. "It's not like the uniform," Gaius continued. "You _have_ to wear that. You won't see anybody but the greenest recruits wearing civvies." He nodded at the tight-fitting black one-piece jumpsuit with the silver stripe on one arm he was wearing, which contrasted sharply with Harry's T-shirt and denims. "So, you wanna go?"

"I'll wait," Harry said stubbornly. He'd be damned if he'd conform right off the bat just because it was expected of him. He liked his hair long and he wanted to keep it.

"Suit yourself. In that case, let's dump your stuff in the barracks and get you fitted for a uniform."

"Okay, I guess. I—"

 

Harry was interrupted by a shout that echoed down the long corridor to their right.

 

" _Faggot!_ "

 

He saw Gaius' head whip to the right and a frown crease his freckled face. A group of cadets in tight black jumpsuits and haircuts so short they were almost bald was coming down the hallway from the barracks. Or rather, backing down it. Because even though they were shouting threats and insults, Harry could still see the look of fear in their eyes as they stumbled down the hall. Striding toward them, as though herding them in the direction of the mess hall, was a tall cadet who Harry thought had to be at least as old as Gaius if not older.

He was tall and lean but his skin-tight black uniform showed off a surprisingly muscular form. Brown hair was pushed carelessly behind his ears and fell in waves well past his regulation collar. His eyes were pale, ice blue and the look in them was cold amusement, as if the leader of the group of cadets opposite him wasn't spitting insults at him.

 

" _What the hell?_ " Harry murmured, looking to Gaius for an explanation.

" _Shit,_ " Gaius muttered out of the corner of his mouth, shaking his head. "It's Louis Tomlinson —the Falcon. Stay back and keep out of it."

 

"I said, you're a _faggot_ , Tomlinson," the leader of the cadets shouted again and his three supporters gave scared hoots of laughter.

"Heard you the first time, Burns," the tall cadet drawled. His graceful, easy movements spoke of coiled energy waiting to lash out at the right time. "There's no need to shout."

"All you Needlers are faggots." The leader, who had skull-cut pale blond hair and bulging china-blue eyes, was still shouting even though the object of his fear wasn't three feet from him. "Go on, Tomlinson, deny it."

Tomlinson had stopped in the exact center of both corridors, blocking the way in every direction so that Harry and Gaius were forced to stop and watch the show. "The question isn't whether I'll deny your accusation, Burns," he said, his deep voice reasonable and still amused. "It's whether I give a shit about what you think in the first place." He grinned lazily, showing extremely white teeth. "And for some reason I just don't."

 

 _Needlers? He's a Needler?_ Harry noticed the coveted silver star circled by a lightning bolt on the shoulder of the tall cadet's uniform. So he was part of a Needle crew. But if Needlers were so respected, why was another cadet —one who was obviously of lower rank and status— calling the tall, brown-haired cadet out?

 

" _Faggot! Fudgepacker! Cocksucker!_ " Burns' voice was strident and his pale complexion was hectic dull-red color. "All you Needlers take it up the ass!"

"Not all of us," the cadet called Tomlinson said amiably. "Some of us _give_ it. Would you like to find out the hard way?"

" _You son of a bitch!_ " Burns surged forward and his companions made a big show of holding him back. Tomlinson didn't even flinch.

"I'd watch myself, Burns," he said and there was a hint of anger behind the amusement in his ice blue eyes. "Your little show is going to get old soon. And if your friends let you go, I won't just be pulling rank on your narrow ass."

"What are you gonna do, Tomlinson?" Burns spat. "Think you can do me like you did Sabine?"

 

" _Oh shit,_ " Harry heard Gaius mutter under his breath. But before he could ask who Sabine was and what Tomlinson was supposed to have done to him, the brown-haired cadet surged forward. Almost faster than Harry could see, he had Burns pinned against the nearest wall with one strong forearm braced against his throat. There was no humor left in his ice blue eyes. Only a cold, murderous rage.

 

"You listen to me, Burns." Tomlinson's voice was deep and quiet but it crackled with suppressed menace in the echoing corridor. "You ever, _ever_ mention Sabine's name to me again and I swear I'll give you a firsthand tour of the deep dark outside the ship. But first I'll meet with all your expectations of me — _every single one of them_." He leaned forward and kissed the other cadet gently on the mouth for a long moment before pulling back to look him in the eyes. "Understand me, Burns?"

 

"Goddammit, let him go!"

" _Fucking faggot!_ "

"Dammit, Tomlinson—"

 

The shouts of Burns' followers were loud and ineffectual since they weren't doing a thing to get their leader away from the tall, brown-haired cadet. Tomlinson held the speechless Burns' gaze for a moment more and then suddenly released him from the choke hold against the wall. He stepped away smoothly and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

Burns stagged back, one hand going to his throat, his face nearly purple. He wiped his mouth against the back of his hand and spat angrily. "You'll regret..." was all he managed before choking on his words. "You'll..." He pointed a finger at Tomlinson, wiping his mouth again, and then suddenly turned and staggered down the corridor toward the mess and rec halls. His followers trailed behind him, shouting halfhearted insults over their shoulders.

 

Tomlinson laughed softly and straightened his uniform. Then, as if noticing Harry and Gaius for the first time, he turned slowly to face them full on. Having only seen his profile before, Harry bit back a gasp when he saw the jagged white scar that bisected the elegant arch of the tall Needler's right eyebrow and marked the smooth, dark tan of his cheek, running parallel to his hawk-like nose. It disappeared just under his chin, a cruel imperfection in an otherwise perfect face.

 

"New recruit?" Tomlinson looked at him in a cool, appraising manner that sent a chill down Harry's back for some reason.

"Uh, yeah, Falcon. New... he's new. Just came up on the transport." Gaius' voice ended on a ridiculous squeak, his eyes darting nervously away from the steady ice blue gaze of the Needler.

" _Really_." Tomlinson sauntered forward with an easy, hip-shot grace that raised the sensitive hairs at the back of Harry's neck. What was so great about this guy? So scary? Needler or not, he wasn't that impressive."

"Yeah, _really_ ," he said, stepping forward and holding out a hand. "Name's Harry. I'm going to be a Needle gunner."

Tomlinson's scarred eyebrow arched in mild disbelief and he ignored the offer of a handshake. "Is that what you think, Green Eyes?" he murmured, slight amusement coloring his voice. "Well, I guess we'll wait until you get into uniform and get your pointy little head shaved to burst that bubble."

"It's true," Harry found himself insisting. He frowned, angered at how easily the older cadet had put him on the defensive. "It's what they brought me up here for," he said in a deeper, more certain voice. "And the name is Harry, not ' _Green Eyes_ '."

"Whatever you say." Tomlinson was obviously losing interest. His gaze flicked negligently over Gaius' gangly form and focused on the corridor leading to the mess hall.

"And I'm not getting my head shaved," Harry continued. He wasn't sure why he needed to make that distinction but it came popping out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Oh no?" Suddenly Tomlinson's attention was centered on him again, this time completely. Harry felt his face heat as the ice blue stare focused on him like a laser beam.

"No," he said stubbornly even though Gaius was hissing at him to shut up and come away. He looked up, meeting the older cadet's gaze unflinchingly. "No, I'm not."

"Why not?" Tomlinson took another step forward and ran long fingers through Harry's loose curls. For some reason the casual touch made him shiver. "Don't want to lose your pretty brown curls, _Green Eyes_?" he murmured, his gaze never leaving Harry's. "Or are you just a rebel? Want to show the Academy establishment that you aren't going to fit in without a fight?"

"Nothing like that. I just like my hair the way it is so I'm keeping it." Harry wanted to back away from the long fingers at the back of his neck, from the laser beam eyes, but he couldn't. Backing away was backing down and he was damned if he'd do that, no matter what a big man on campus this joker Tomlinson was. "Why do _you_ keep _your_ hair long instead of cutting it?" he demanded, hoping to turn the tables.

Tomlinson frowned. "Because someone else liked it this way," he said shortly. "Go on to the barracks before Gaius there has a coronary. I'm sure I'll see you later, Newbie, especially with that mop. If you keep it." He ruffled Harry's hair once more and sauntered off down the corridor, leaving Gaius to grab Harry's arm and drag him in the opposite direction.

 

" _Are you crazy?_ " he breathed as soon as Tomlinson was out of hearing distance. "Challenging him _that way_? Trying to get his attention?"

"I wasn't challenging him, I was introducing myself." Harry shook off the older cadet's hand impatiently. "And what do I care if he pays attention to me?"

"You need to stay away from the Falcon —as far away as you can get," Gaius insisted urgently, still leading him toward the barracks. "You don't wanna mess with him, man. He's bad news."

" _So?_ " Harry shrugged angrily. "He thinks he's such hot shit, what do I care? Why do they call him the Falcon, anyway?"

"Because no one can fly a Needle like he can." Gaius turned to face him and dropped the dark blue duffle bag with a dull thud to the metal floor. "The Falcon's the best Needle pilot at the Academy - maybe the best anyone has ever seen anywhere. But he doesn't have a partner."

"So?" Harry asked again. "So what if he doesn't have a partner? Spit it out, Gaius. What's the big deal about _the Falcon_ anyway?"

Gaius shook his head, his freckled face pale. "You just don't get it do you? The big deal is that the Falcon doesn't have a partner because his last partner is dead. _He killed him_."


	3. Chapter 2

"Partnership. Commitment. Teamwork. These are principles we value highly here at the Lunar Academy of Excellence. If you wish to excel here you will do well to value them as well." The instructor, a man by the name of Colonel Marten, droned on and on, pacing back and forth in front of a view screen where his words were instantly reproduced in red holo letter. The classroom was the same dull gunmetal gray as the rest of the ship and no attempt had been made to decorate the walls other than the ubiquitous strips of colored directional lights.

 

Harry felt his head nodding and jerked back to attention, trying to keep from falling asleep in his hard plasti-wood desk. Gaius had been right about one thing —he'd been up something like fifteen hours the day before and after the ardous transport ride and the rush to get uniforms and class assignments, he was beat. It had been all he could do to toll out of his bunk in the common barracks he had shared with fourteen or so other new recruits at the sound of revelry playing over the loudspeakers.

All around him he saw freshly shaved heads nodding as the other new recruits tried not to drift off. _And why should they stay awake?_ he thought resentfully. So far nothing he had heard in the Academy orientation was any different from every pep talk he'd ever gotten from every coach he'd ever had Earth-side. Any minute he was expecting to hear that 'there is no I in teamwork' and 'if you fail to plan you plan to fail'. It was boring, not nearly what he'd imagined back when the recruiters had come around telling how they needed a few good men and he was the one they wanted.

 

"Partner assignments and permanent classifications, so listen up, people." The words of Colonel Marten, who looked to be in his mid-thirties with prematurely graying hair, finally got Harry's attention. Marten was wearing the crisp black and silver uniform of the Academy staff and striding back and forth in front of the plasti-wood podium as though inspecting the troops, which Harry supposed he and his fellow new recruits were, in a way.

"Now hear this," Marten continued. "I don't want to hear any complaints about any of these assignment. I know you all think you're here to be Admiral of the Fleet and you're certain that your best friend since nursery school ought to be your permanent partner but I'm here to tell you that isn't necessarily the case. The Academy did extensive aptitude and psychological testing on you before you set foot on the transport to come up here and let me tell you, _the tests are never wrong._ No ifs, ands or buts." As he spoke he scooped up and info grid from the podium and shook it in the air to make his point. "So let's get started." He looked down at the grid and cleared his throat. "Anderson, you're going to be in our engineering corps and your partner assignment is Wakens."

" _Excuse me_ , Sir?" The bucktoothed recruit beside Harry shot his hand in the air, waving almost frantically.

"Yes, Anderson?" the instructor growled. "Problems already? You think Wakens has BO1 and you can't stand to live with him?"

"Oh no Sir. I-I'm sure Wakens smells great."

There was a ripple of suppressed laughter and the indignant Wakens at the back of the room muttered, " _Damn straight._ "

"Well then?" Colonel Marten glowered. "Would you care to share your problem with the rest of the class?"

"Uh, it's just that... that..." Anderson blushed beet red and began to stammer. "Uh... I know you said there were no mistakes on the list but that I was told I would be a Needle pilot when I was recruited. And I just—"

"And you just don't have any interest in engineering?" Marten made a face of mock sympathy. "Aw, Anderson, how terrible. Are you telling me that we here at the Academy are stomping all over your cherished hoped and dreams by giving you the best education in the field you're," he consulted the info grid, "ninety-six percent most likely to succeed in rather than letting you play pilot and probably getting yourself killed on your first flight?"

"I...I just..." Anderson shook his head, his face now so red it looked as if someone had dyed it like an Easter egg.

"I didn't think so," the instructor growled. "So let's move on. Wakens, in addition to being Anderson's new best friend and partner, you will also be in the engineer corps."

 

From the look of suppressed anger on Wakens' face, Harry could see that he was also disappointed in his assignment. So then Gaius had been right. Apparently the recruiters did tell everyone who came up to the Lunar Academy what they wanted to hear. And once the recruits signed the extensive and legally binding paperwork, there was nothing they could do about it. Like it or not, Harry was going to be stuck here for the next two to four years of his life, probably learning to take care of a jump drive or reading boring navigational star charts. He sighed and shifted in his chair. _Can't believe I gave up West Point for this!_

The instructor continued in alphabetical order and Harry waited for his own last name, Styles, to be called. But he was skipped over as the other fourteen recruits were sorted into seven pairs of pissed-off partners. As Harry had suspected, not a single one of them was assigned to the crew of a Needle, either as a pilot or a gunner, and none of them looked very happy about their choice of partner either.

As the last pair was called, he wondered what was going to happen to him. It hadn't occurred to him before that there were an odd number of recruits, but now that he was the odd man out, he felt awkward and uncertain. Maybe the tests had proven he didn't need a partner, he thought uneasily. Maybe he was the rare exception who was going to go it alone during his years at the Academy.

Just as he was almost certain that was it, the instructor dismissed them. Harry rose to leave with the others but he was waved to the front of the classroom.

 

"Not so fast, Styles," Marten barked as the other recruits filed out. "Thought you were going to get out of getting an assignment and a partner, did you?"

"No Sir," Harry answered even though that was exactly what he had been hoping.

"Well, you're not," the instructor said, as though Harry had answered in the affirmative. "We have something special for you, Styles. Something I think will suit you perfectly."

Harry felt his pulse leap but he tried to keep his face impassive. "Yes Sir," he said, standing up straighter.

"Good." Colonel Marten nodded and then frowned. "Styles, why haven't you visited the shears yet?" He nodded distastefully at Harry's blondish brown curls. "Like all the rest of the new recruits. Did you get in too late last night?"

"No Sir." Harry swallowed. "I was told that a haircut wasn't required so I elected to keep my hair as is."

" _Elected_  to keep it, did you?" Marten growled. "Huh —another rebel. Well, whether you get to keep it or not will be up to your pilot. Depends on if it bothers him when you fly."

" _My_ pilot?" Harry's heart began to pound. "Do you mean the pilot of a Needle, Sir?"

Marten gave him a shark-like grin. "Sure do, son. Unlike the rest of those yahoos, you were brought up here because you have a very specific skill. I've seen your target practice stats and they are damn impressive. In fact, we're going to team you with a senior cadet and get you mainstreamed right into the Needle program. Hope to see you in a Needle of your own by the end of the month."

"That's...amazing. Thank you, Sir." Harry reached for the instructor's hand and pumped it enthusiastically. Then a sudden surge of apprehension hit him. "But, uh, if you don't mind me asking, who is my pilot going to be?"

 

"That would be me, _if I'd accept you_. Which I won't. Marten, this is a disgrace." The deep, drawling voice was horribly familiar. Harry turned with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach to see Louis Tomlinson —The Falcon— lounging against the open doorway of the classroom, arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his dark, scarred face.

 

 _Shit!_ Harry's stomach felt as if he'd just swallowed a bowl full of lead corn flakes but he tried to keep his expression blank.

 

"Sir," he said, addressing Colonel Marten, "I haven't even been at the Academy for twenty-four hours and already I've heard rumors about—"

"Rumors about what, _Newbie_?" Tomlinson sauntered over, blue eyes flashing.

"Rumors about what happened to your last partner," Harry shot back. "Your last gunner."

"What's the matter, Green Eyes?" Tomlinson looked coldly amused. "Afraid of the big bad Needler? Afraid I'll chop you up and feed you to the Lobsters once we get out in the deep dark together?"

"Nobody worries about the Lobsters anymore," Harry said scornfully.

"If by nobody you mean you, then you're a bigger fool than you look." Tomlinson arched his scarred eyebrow at him, arms still crossed over his chest. "They're coming back and we Needlers are going to be the last line of defense. Why even aspire to be a gunner if you don't believe in what you're doing? What are you protecting?"

"What I'm protecting is my own ass," Harry spat. "I'm not going into the next room with you, let alone deep space, until I get some assurances that what happened to your last partner isn't going to happen to me."

" _That_ depends on you," Tomlinson growled. "You have nothing to fear from me as long as you pull your weight."

 

"Gentlemen, please!" Colonel Marten stepped between them, putting a hand on both of their chests. His tone was like thunder. "You," he said, turning to Tomlinson, "will take what we give you. You may be the best Needle pilot to come through the Academy in the last thirty years but you're not above being expelled and you're on a very fine line right now. And you," he turned to Harry, "will learn from Tomlinson, here, and let your superiors worry about safety issues." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder and his voice dropped a little. "Rest assured, Styles, that we wouldn't be putting another cadet with Tomlinson if we had any uncertainty at all as to that cadet's safety. Tomlinson is your pilot and your partner now —you'll have to learn to trust each other if you're going to fly a Needle effectively. Now..." Colonel Marten stepped back and looked at both of them. "Is that understood?"

"Yes Sir." Harry felt the words stick in his throat.

" _I suppose_ ," Tomlinson drawled. With a glare from Marten he stiffened and gave an overly elaborate salute. "Excuse me. I meant to say yes Sir!" he barked, his lean, muscular body rigid as he came to attention.

The brown-haired Needler's sarcasm obviously wasn't lost on Colonel Marten but he only nodded. "Right. Then shake hands."

 

Harry unwillingly held out his hand and waited for Tomlinson to ignore it as he had the night before. But the older cadet took his hand readily enough. Harry squeezed, expecting an answering squeeze, maybe even a test of his strength. But Tomlinson just held his hand, looking into his eyes as though measuring him in some way.

As he had the night before, Harry wanted to drop his eyes and look away from the intense, laser-like gaze but somehow he couldn't. He raised his chin and looked Tomlinson squarely in his ice blue eyes, giving back challenge for challenge. He kept his gaze level even though it felt awkward and wrong to be standing there holding antoher man's hand while he looked into his eyes. Colonel Marten didn't say anything, simply watching the silent staring contest. At last, the older cadet nodded and dropped his hand.

 

"All right," he said as though Harry had passed some kind of a test. "Get your stuff and I'll take you to our quarters."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Body odour.


	4. Chapter 3

"So you want to be a gunner." Tomlinson's voice was cool as he watched Harry put his personal items in his side of the narrow plasti-wood dresser. All his civilian clothes had been taken away and he had only been issued one uniform so far so it didn't take long.

"I was born to be a gunner. I've got a natural sight and my hand-eye coordination is off the charts." Harry lifted his chin defiantly, looking over his shoulder at his new partner who was lounging on the bed in a relaxed posture. The fact that there was only one bed, and not a very wide one at that, was a little disturbing, but he figured that either there was another bed that folded out or maybe a cot somewhere he could use. Tomlinson was frightening, irritating and fascinating, and Harry had no desire to sleep in such close proximity to him as the single bed afforded.

 

High on one of the gray metal walls was a small silver disk that looked like some kind of alarm or detector. Tomlinson had told him that it would go off in the event of another Saudeber invasion so Harry felt fairly confident he would never see it in action. The rest of the room was decorated with holo posters of _Annihilation_ , a group Harry's parents hated. Rebel that Tomlinson obviously was, _Annihilation_ still wasn't what Harry would have guessed he listened to. He wondered if the posters were left over from Tomlinson's last partner and suppressed a shiver.

 

"Well, well, a natural gunner." Tomlinson gave him a gentle smile. "And I see you still have your pretty curls too. The two might not mix, you know, Green Eyes. Did Marten tell you that?"

Harry swallowed a lump of resentment and finished putting his things away. "Colonel Marten said that you would decide if my hair bothered you while we were flying." He scowled. "I don't see what my hair has to do with your ability to pilot though."

Tomlinson rolled over on one side and frowned at him, the scar on the right side of his face very white against his gold tan skin. "It has to do with whether I can see over your ridiculous mop to fly or not, Newbie. We'll both have on flight masks but if your hair gets in the way... Look, do you even know what the inside of a Needle looks like? Or the outside for that matter? _Of course you don't_ ," he answered his own question before Harry could open his mouth. "It's classified information. All you know is that it's silver and sleek —the fastest machine ever created by man with enough firepower to take out a small city. Am I right?"

Harry shrugged uneasily. "It _is_ classified, like you said," he pointed out, hating to admit his ignorance.

Tomlinson shook his head and let out a short laugh. "Yeah, the Needle is the Fleet's secret weapon, all right. And the way you fly one is the Fleet's biggest secret."

"What do you mean?" Harry frowned at him, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"You'll find out. Come on." Tomlinson was off the bed in one fluid movement and headed for the door.

"Where are we going?" Harry hated to trail after the older cadet like a lost puppy but Colonel Marten had told him to stick close to his new partner, so he didn't feel like he had a choice.

"To the target range," Tomlinson said over his shoulder. "You're about to learn some hard truths, Green Eyes. And we'll see if you can keep your pretty hair."

 

 

 ...                   

 

 

The target range looked pretty much like any gun range Harry had ever been in, and he had been in plenty. His dad had started giving him shooting lessons and taking him hunting when he was seven and old enough to site down the barrel of his first BB gun2. It was a long, narrow hallway with evenly spaced booths that looked into the dark target area. There was no protective earwear that Harry could see although there were some sleek black goggles that looked like they would fit tight to the head.

Tomlinson led him down to the very end of the range so there was plenty of room between them and the few other shooters. He pushed a button on the wall and a long black metal contraption emerged from the ceiling and came down to about shoulder height in front of Harry.

 

"What's that?" Harry stared at it, intrigued. The sides of the black metal machine looked like long sleeves with gloves attached, making him think he was supposed to slide his arms and hands into them, and there was a scope in the middle to look through.

"This is a NWSS, a Needle Weapons System Simulator. Here." Tomlinson threw him a pair of goggles and slipped on a pair himself. With his ice blue eyes covered and the black strap of the goggles bisecting his scar, he looked alien and slightly menacing.

Harry slipped on the goggles and stepped up to the machine. "We need the goggles because...?"

"Because you're going to be using laser blasts instead of bullets, Green Eyes." Tomlinson sounded slightly amused. "And unless you want to burn out your retinas and ruin that off-the-chart hand-eye coordination of yours, you need to put on a pair every time you come down here. Which had better be every spare minute you have. Most gunners have months of training before they even get to see a Needle but Marten wants you in one by the end of the month."

"Yeah, that's what he said to me too." Harry gave his new partner a defiant look. "You don't have to worry. I catch on fast so I won't embarrass you."

Tomlinson let out a short, humorless laugh. " _Embarrass me?_ I'm not worried about that —I'm worried about you getting us both killed." He stepped forward and patted the oily black weapons simulator respectfully. "See, out in space, all this is for real. The targets don't just sit there like some stupid deer or squirrel and wait for you to shoot them. They're in constant motion and they shoot back —kind of like the Saudeber ship cluster when it comes. The Lobsters won't wait to see if you're ready before they attack— they'll just blow you out of the deep dark if you don't blow them up first."

Harry gave the older cadet a measured glance. "You really believe that, don't you? That they're coming back?"

"I have absolutely no doubt about it," Tomlinson said. "We're humans —individuals. We have a relatively short life span and memory. But the Saudebers have a queen-with-a-hive mind —that means they never forget. They wanted to colonize us —take us over. And just because we beat them once doesn't mean they don't still want to. One day we're going to be scanning space and there they'll be, coming around the far side of Mars. Then it's going to be up to you and me and the other Needlers to pull a Rodriguez and blast them out of the sky."

 

Harry knew what he meant. Tony Rodriguez was the name of the brave pilot who had died destroying the queen ship at the center of the Saudebers' ship cluster fifty years before during the first invasion. But he didn't know anyone who believed with such absolute certainty that the Lobsters were coming back for round two. His disbelief must have shown on his face because Tomlinson frowned and shook his head.

 

"You don't have to believe me if you don't want to, Newbie," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "But believe this —even if the Lobsters don't come back, you can still die out there. Your final examination is for real and the targets won't just be firing random shots over your bow —they'll be actively trying to kill you. And me for that matter. Now, I've been known to do some fancy maneuvering from time to time but I can only dodge so many shots. It's going to be up to you, and this," he patted the simulator. "to keep us from being blown to space dust."

"Right. I get it." Harry nodded, feeling a cold lump of dread settle in the pit of his stomach. He wondered if some kind of waiver had been included in the mass of paperwork he had signed before getting on the transport to come up to the Academy. He was pretty sure no one had told his parents that he might actually get killed up here but obviously it did happen. Look at Tomlinson's former partner —Sabine. He'd eaten a slice of death pie, although Harry didn't know the details.

"Hey, Styles." Tomlinson took a step closer and looked Harry in the eye, as much as the goggles they were both wearing would allow. "I don't want to scare you too much," he said, his deep voice soft. "The first couple of times we fly they won't have the kill mode on the targets turned on. But I need you to be prepared for when they do. When we fly together, you hold my life in your hands the same way I hold yours in mine. We both have to be good at our jobs — _damn good—_  if we want to survive."

"I want to do more than just survive." Harry lifted his chin. "I want to be the best. What are the stats around here anyway? Who heads the charts?"

Tomlinson took a step back, his face hardening. "Up until a few months ago that was me. Me and Sabi...my old partner." He shrugged. "Now Landrews and Sanderson are it. You'll meet them later."

"We're gonna beat them," Harry said with more certainty than he felt. "We'll be at the top before you know it." 

Tomlinson allowed himself a small smile. "Hungry for glory, Newbie? That'll get you killed as quick as a slow trigger finger. Let's just strap you into the simulator and let you get a feel for it before you start gunning for the top spot."

"Fine." With some help from his new partner, Harry slid his arms into the simulator's sleeves, feeling the cool, oily metal snap into place around his flesh like a living thing. The gloves at the ends of the sleeves were filled with sensors and had jump-pike sticks to grip with different firing buttons arranged like triggers along their slightly spongy surfaces.

"Hold them like this," Tomlinson instructed, correcting his grip. "Every single part of your hand is involved. Every finger, every pressure point on your palm is connected to a different array of weapons. The Needle has three-hundred-and-sixty-degree firepower just like it has three-hundred-and-sixty-degree maneuverability. That means a gunner's most valuable assets are his hands, so we'll be taking care of them every night from now on."

"Okay." Harry wasn't exactly sure what that meant but it seemed to make sense. Maybe he was supposed to wear special gloves to bed or something.

"Now look through the scope," Tomlinson instructed. "I'm going to start the targets. Slow at first to give you a chance to get the hang of it. If it looks like you're getting it, I'll speed them up."

Harry pressed his forehead to the cool, molded metal of the scope and was surprised to feel it shift slightly to conform to the shape of his face. "Hey!" He pulled back slightly and looked at Tomlinson for an explanation.

"Go on." His new partner nodded. "That's smart metal and the entire Needle is made of it. It will conform to the exact shape of your body and hold you in place when you fly. It feels strange at first but you'll get used to it." He frowned. " _There are a lot of things you'll have to get used to in order to fly in a Needle._ "

 

Ignoring the cryptic comment, Harry put his face back against the scope and felt the smart metal mold itself to his skin once more. This time the sensation wasn't quite so disconcerting and he found he was able to focus on the long, dark, narrow alley of the target range, waiting for the first target to appear.

When it came, it was fast. A blur of light out of the corner of his eye that he would have missed if all his senses hadn't been on a hair trigger. Instinctively, Harry twitched his right pinky finger and saw a similar bolt of light skewer the target perfectly. There was a  silent explosion and then inky blackness once more as he waited for the next one to appear.

Behind him, he heard a soft murmur of what sounded like approval from Tomlinson but he paid no attention. It didn't matter to him if the older cadet approved of him or not —what mattered was getting the targets. Already the smart-metal simulator felt as if it were part of him and he seemed to know without even thinking about it which set of triggers to push to shoot in every direction. That was good, but he wanted to get better, wanted to be the best. That was what he was thinking while the next five targets came whizzing at him from every direction. _Be the best, get them all._ It became like a mantra in his head until Harry was the gun he was shooting and his entire being was focused on annihilating every single target the simulator threw at him.

His concentration was perfect and he was hitting every target, even when Tomlinson speeded the simulator up so fast he could hardly see what he was shooting at. _Getting it, I'm getting it!_  he thought excitedly. Then, just as he was so in the zone he didn't know where his body ended and the simulator began, a warm pair of arms crept around his waist and he felt his new partner's hard chest flush against his back. But that wasn't all. He could also feel Tomlinson hot breath on the back of his neck and the bulge of his cock pressing right against his ass.

Harry stiffened in apprehension. _What the hell was going on?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BB guns are a type of air gun designed to fire spherical projectiles similar to shot pellets of approximately the same size.


	5. Chapter 4

" _Hey! What the hell?_ " Harry tried to spin around and clock the bastard in his face but the simulator wouldn't loosen its grip on him. He was stuck —trapped. " _What the fuck d'you think you're doing?_ " he demanded, still fighting the unwanted and unexpected embrace.

"Not what _you_ think I'm doing so relax, Newbie." Tomlinson's voice sounded almost bored, as though he did this kind of thing every day of his life. Remembering the scene in the hallway when Burns had insulted the tall cadet, Harry thought he probably did.

" _I swear to God_ , man, if you don't get off me right now—" he began but Tomlinson interrupted him smoothly.

"Do you know what will get you killed quicker than anything else when you're out in space?" he asked, his breath brushing though the loose curls at the side of Harry's neck.

"I know what's gonna get _you_ killed. Get off me, man!" Harry felt ready to panic now. This son of a bitch Tomlinson had him and obviously didn't intend to let him go. Worse, the proximity of the other man's lean, muscular form seemed to be doing something strange to Harry's body. Something wrong and unnatural.

"Boundaries," Tomlinson continued, as though Harry wasn't rigid in his arms demanding to be released. "Your personal boundaries are more likely to get you killed than any of the targets or even the Saudeber ship cluster. Because if you can't let go of your boundaries, you can't do your job. How many targets do you think you've missed since I put my arms around you?"

" _Hell if I know_ and I don't care either," Harry growled. "And what do personal boundaries have to do with how well I shoot?"

"You've missed over fifty targets, any one of which could have killed us if we were out in the deep dark," Tomlinson informed him. "And you need to let go of your personal boundaries because this is the way we're going to be strapped into the cockpit of the Needle."

" _What?_ What are you talking about?" Harry had a vague recollection of Gaius telling him that the Needle was tight quarters inside but no one had said anything about having another guy draped all over him the entire time he was in space.

Tomlinson sighed in his ear, causing a cool shiver to run up the back of Harry's spine. "I'm talking about the way the Needle is designed," he said patiently. "There's a neural net that encloses both of us and enables our reflexes to coordinate perfectly. So while I'm steering the ship, you're shooting at what I see and when you're shooting, I'm steering away from the possible danger that you see. We're almost like one man —or two men in the same skin."

" _A Needleman shares his life with his wife but his skin with his partner_ ," Harry murmured, remembering the weird saying Gaius had told him the day before. Now it made a horrible kind of sense. _God, he couldn't believe this was really happening!_ Couldn't believe that he was going to be locked in a strange, intimate embrace with another man every time he flew in a Needle. Just the thought made him feel as if someone had dumped a cup of ice cubes into his stomach.

"I see you're not completely ignorant of the concept," Tomlinson said. "So since this is how it's going to be, you need to get used to it."

"I...I don't know if I can." Harry swallowed, trying not to pay attention to the stirring going on in the lower half of his black jumpsuit uniform. "I mean... can I at least be on top? Er...behind you instead? I mean, I don't like..." But he couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't say that it bothered him to be covered by another man, to feel so helpless, so vulnerable.

"You want to be a top, hmm?" There was a whisper of laughter in his ear that sent another shiver down his spine. "I'm afraid not, Green Eyes. The way the cockpit is set up, the pilot has to be directly behind the gunner. Always. And before you ask, no, you can't be the pilot. You don't have the skills and I don't have the reflexes to be a gunner so we're not trading places just to ease your Neanderthal homophobic tendencies."

"I'm not homophobic!" Harry protested even though he had an idea that maybe he was —at least a little. "I have friends —gay friends, I mean. I even hug them sometimes and shit like that. I just never...you know." He shrugged, feeling the ripple of sensation as his shoulders pressed against Tomlinson's broad chest all the way down to his toes.

"I know," Tomlinson murmured in his ear. "And your reaction is understandable. Because you're _never_ going to get as close to one of your other friends as you and I are going to get. We're going to sleep in the same bed, shower at the same time, eat, sleep and breathe each other until your boundaries are completely stripped away, Green Eyes, because that's the only way to guarantee you're thinking of the target that's about to shoot our Needle down instead of me standing behind you whispering in your ear."

Harry took a deep, trembling breath, trying to take it all in. "I...I don't know if I can do this," he admitted at last. "I mean, _shit_ , man, I don't even know you, Tomlinson. And I'm pretty sure when I do get to know you, I'm not gonna like you."

Tomlinson gave a low, humorless laugh that stirred Harry's curls. "Yes, I'm a disagreeable son of a bitch, aren't I, Newbie? But we don't have to be friends to save each other's lives. I can tell this is hard on you and I'm sorry, but I want to live more than I want to make you feel comfortable."

"I just...I don't..." Harry shifted his feet awkwardly and felt the bulge of the older cadet's cock pressing against his ass once more. Tomlinson didn't give any indication he'd noticed the contact and didn't move away from it either. Harry couldn't tell if his partner was half hard from being in this position or if he was just having a case of mid-morning wood, whick wasn't that uncommon with Harry either. Just like right now, he told himself, his cock was so hard it was about to burst right though the thin, silky material of his uniform but that didn't really mean anything —did it? _Did it?_

"The thing to remember," Tomlinson said, breaking into his train of thought, "is that this doesn't have to be a sexual relationship."

A burst of incredulous laughter escaped Harry's lips as he stared unseeing at the target range. " _What the hell_ , man. Your cock is halfway up my ass and you're telling me this _isn't_ sexual?"

"If I was inside you, _fucking_ you, you'd know it, Newbie." Tomlinson's voice was sharp in his ear and the cock behind him ground against his ass briefly, as though making a point. Harry bit back a moan. "But the point is that even though we're touching each other, we don't have to go there," Tomlinson continued. "Right now your body is probably aroused but that's because you're young and responsive. You're reacting to the heat and closeness of my body pressed against yours but it doesn't mean anything."

"What...what are you trying to say?" Harry demanded, angry that the older cadet knew his shameful secret, the fact that his cock was throbbing in time with his heartbeat every time he felt his new partner shift behind him.

"I'm saying than _this_ ," Tomlinson's fingers brushed lightly over the straining bulge in the front of Harry's uniform, "isn't your fault and it doesn't make you wrong or strange or screwed up in any way."

" _Shit!_ " Harry jumped at the featherlight touch, trying to get away from Tomlinson's hand, only to press more firmly against the cock behind him. " _Don't do that_ ," he warned. "I'm telling you right now I don't swing that way. I-I have a girlfriend at home and everything."

"So do I," Tomlinson said unexpectedly. "My fiancée Tara. We've been engaged for the last four years and if I ever get out of the shithouse I'm going to marry her." He didn't sound very happy about the prospect but Harry had more on his mind than his new partner's emotional health.

"But I thought... I thought..."

"You thought everything Burns was saying about me yesterday was true?" Tomlinson sounded amused again. "You thought all Needlers were faggots?"

"Not exactly but I - "

"I won't lie to you, Styles," Tomlinson said, his voice unexpectedly serious. "It heightens the connection. The more contact you have, the better your bond and the closer the neural net can draw you together. Some of the other Needle crews —and I'm not going to say which ones— but some of them go that way."

"Did you? With your old partner?" Harry didn't know why he asked but the question slipped out before he could stop it. Behind him he felt every muscle in Tomlinson's lean frame tighten and clench.

" _That is none of your goddamn business._ " Every word fell like a cube of solid ice —separate, distinct and freezing cold. Then Tomlinson took a deep breath. "Just like nothing in my relationship with you is anyone's business," he said, his voice slightly less frigid.

"Jesus," Harry almost moaned. "I haven't even known you for twenty-four hours and we're already in a relationship. This is too fucking weird for me, man, I'm _serious_."

"Don't be such a girl," Tomlinson snapped. "I'm not talking about hearts and flowers and walking on the beach and candlelight dinners. Relationship, partnership —call it whatever you want but for better or worse we're stuck with it. We both signed the papers and they put us together. And I promise you, Newbie, nothing but death is going to tear us apart."

"Is that what happened to your last partner?" The minute it was out of his mouth, Harry knew it was the wrong thing to say but it was too late to take it back. Quick as a snake, Tomlinson's hand was at his crotch again but this time his touch wasn't in any way light or gentle. Harry felt a rough hand cup his balls through the loose fabric of his uniform and Tomlinson murmured in his ear.

" _What_ did you say?"

Harry opened his mouth to snap out a smart remark but then the hand cupping him began to squeeze. " _God._..I...nothing," he gasped, twisting his pelvis desperately to try to get away from the painful pressure. His cock, which had been hard as a rock a few seconds before, began to deflate quickly. Being held immobile and touched by another man seemed to have a weird effect on him but pain was definitely not a turn-on.

" _'Nothing'_ is right, Newbie," Tomlinson growled quietly. "Let me tell you something about Sabine —you aren't fit to lick his boots. You think you're such a hot shit as a gunner? He had you beat by light-years. Now he's gone and I've got you to deal with but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I've been trying to go easy on you up to now but let me warn you right now at the start of our relationship —if you say anything, and I mean _anything_ about my former partner, you'd better be prepared to eat your tender little testicles for lunch. _Understand?_ "

"God, _yes!_ " Harry gasped as the hand holding his balls squeezed once more. "You got it, man. It's off limits —I understand."

"Good." The hand holding him backed off and soon Tomlinson had both arms wrapped around his waist once more. "Then we can continue our lesson now that your target rating is shot to hell."

"What?" Harry couldn't believe it. "You mean the whole time we've been talking my rating has been going down? You mean this session actually counts?"

"Everything counts, Newbie." Tomlinson's voice was harsh. "Remember that. Nothing at the shithouse is for free. Now, concentrate on your shooting and try to forget I'm here."

 

Harry wanted to tell the tall cadet to go fuck himself but some instinct of self-preservation kept him from saying it. Tomlinson was dangerous —he could feel it in the tightly coiled body behind him and hear it in the soft, menacing voice that was whispering in his ear. It was better not to provoke him further.

A dozen options went through his head, asking for a transfer, sending his parents an info-vid and letting them know what really went on at the Academy, _hell_ , he could even call one of those tell-all news shows and help them do an exposé on the place.

Except...except did he really think none of that had ever been tried before? Surely he wasn't the first new recruit to find himself in this situation. Hell, the Academy had even covered up the death of one of their students. Harry hadn't heard a thing about Sabine's death either by word of mouth or on the news-vids before he had signed his paperwork and he was pretty sure that if he got killed in the line of duty, no one would hear about his death either.

No, like it or not, his new partner was right. They were stuck in this situation and he was going to have to learn to live with it. But that didn't mean he didn't want to punch Tomlinson's arrogant face in. _That bastard!_

 

"Take your rage and use it," a low voice murmured in his ear. "Imagine my face on every target if you want to. Blow me up a thousand, thousand times. I don't give a damn how much you hate me as long as you know what you're doing once we're out there in space."

" _You son of a bitch_ ," Harry said thickly. Then, with an almost superhuman effort, he turned his attention back to the rapidly speeding targets and began to fire. But no matter how fiercely he concentrated or how hard he tried no to think about it, he could still feel Tomlinson's broad chest behind him, could hear the soft remarks the older cadet made in his ear from time to time if he hit or missed a shot. Most of all, he could still smell the warm, spicy, masculine scent that meant another person —another man— was deep inside his personal territory and had no intention of leaving.

 

Tomlinson kept him at it for almost another hour, firing mindlessly at the speeding targets, about half of which he missed. Gone was the feeling that he was part of the machine, gone was the easy precision Harry had always taken for granted. He simply couldn't concentrate with the taller man pressed so tightly against him, couldn't keep his mind on the target range when another man's hands were sweeping slowly over his body, when another man's cock was hard agaisnt his ass.

Tomlinson didn't touch his crotch again —he didn't have to. Harry was a mass of confusion, achingly hard even as his balls throbbed from the rough handling they'd received. _What the hell was wrong with him?_ He'd never wanted to kill someone so badly in his life and yet he'd never been so horny either. He felt as if he would die if he couldn't get away from Tomlinson and at the same time he felt he would die if his new partner stopped touching him. Torn between the two impulses, his shots-fired to targets-hit ratio went straight to hell and there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it.

 

"Well, I think that's about enough," Tomlinson said after what seemed like an eternity. "You didn't do too badly for your first time but you're going to have to work on it if you don't want to be at the bottom of the gunners list forever."

"But...I sucked." Harry fired at another target and missed, as though to prove his point. "I'm terrible. I just can't seem..."

"Can't seem to concentrate when I'm so close," Tomlinson finished for him. "That's not surprising, Newbie. Like I told you, it's all about boundaries. Until you lose yours, your ratings are going to be lower than a grasshopper's dick. And that's pretty damn low."

 

Harry surprised himself with a short burst of laughter. The last remark didn't seem like something his cold and sarcastic partner would say at all and the very unexpectedness of it cracked him up.

 

"Boundaries," Tomlinson repeated, sounding slightly amused himself and then his voice became serious in Harry's ear. "I'm going to pop the release on the simulator now and you're going to have an urge to get as far away from me as you can as fast as you can."

"You got that right," Harry breathed. clenching his hands into fists around the JP sticks so that all his weapons went off at once.

 

" _Don't._ " Tomlinson's tone was stern. "Stand here with me and let me hold you without the simulator for as long as you can." He sighed. "I wouldn't put you through this but we've only got a month. One month before we get into the Needle and all of this is real. Think of that, Styles. Your life and mine depend on how well you can tolerate this situation and still do your job. Understand?"

"I..." Harry took a deep breath, every muscle in his body tight. "Yes, I fucking understand," he breathed at last.

Tomlinson laughed. "It's a start, I guess," he said. "On three I'll release you. Ready? One...two.. _.three_."

 

Harry felt the smart metal come away from his face at the same time that the merciless black metal sleeves released his arms and hands. He pulled out of the simulator in quick, jerky movements. His first impulse was to turn and punch the man who had been tormenting him for the past hour and a half but Tomlinson's warning rang in his head. _Your life and mine depend on how well you can tolerate this situation and still do your job._ Taking a deep breath, Harry forced himself to hold still even though his partner was still holding him from behind, pressed hard against him.

 

"That's right, Green Eyes," Tomlinson murmured softly in his ear. "Relax. Just relax... Let your head fall back against my shoulder."

 

The command was given in a soft, coaxing tone but Harry's muscles felt like iron beneath his jumpsuit uniform. Suddenly he wondered if anyone else was watching this horribly embarrassing display. He whipped his head to the left but there were no other cadets to be seen. He and Tomlinson were alone in the target range.

 

"Come on, Styles." There was more steel in the tall cadet's tone now but he was still asking more than telling.

"I don't... _I can't._.." Harry felt as if he were going to explode from the fierce tensions building inside him. The last time he'd let himself lean on another man was when he had been five and had scraped his knee and his father had bandaged it. Every instinct he had was screaming at him that this was wrong —that he had to get away from the strong arms around him and the deep voice in his ear. But somehow he still managed to stay still.

" _You can_ ," Tomlinson murmured. "And you will. And when you do, I'll let you go. I promise. And one thing you should know about me is I don't break promises. _Ever_."

"All-all right." With a superhuman effort of will, Harry forced his muscles to lose some of their tension and allowed his head to fall back against the taller man's shoulder.

"Good. That's good," Tomlinson murmured. He leaned forward and pressed his face to the side of Harry's cheek. "Boundaries," he breathed in Harry's ear. "You're going to lose them all, Styles. But you can keep the curls —I like them." There was a soft brush of lips against Harry's cheek and suddenly Tomlinson released him and he was standing on his own.

" _God!_ " he breathed, not sure if he should laugh or cry, or nail his new partner in the face. He turned to face Tomlinson, who was standing with his hands loose at his side, obviously ready if Harry decided to go for him.

"No, it's just me." Tomlinson smirked. "Are you ready to go?"

"Where are we going now?" Harry demanded, thinking that it had better not be someplace else where he would be restrained and fondled.

"To lunch," Tomlinson said mildly. "Aren't you hungry?"


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twins Jimmy and Timmy portrayed as James Maslow —just imagine one of them with a blond lock on his hair. Chris Landrews as Tom Felton due to the platinum hair but with amber eyes instead and Jon Sanderson as Liam Payne; keep in mind this is an AU, I'm not trying to say Liam is homosexual, though Ziam is real.

"Welcome to the Needlers' lounge. Can I get you anything? Caffeine brew? Nicosticks? Happy meds to keep your newbie from freaking out?" The tall, thin cadet standing in the narrow metal doorway gave Harry an appraising look, which Harry returned with a frown.

"Very funny, Webs. Just let us in." Tomlinson didn't look amused.

"Fine, be that way. Come on in." Harry watched in surprise as Webs, obviously another Needler, gave Tomlinson a casual kiss on the corner of his mouth and stood aside. Tomlinson pushed past him but as Webs leaned in to peck Harry on the mouth as well, Tomlinson's hand shot back and hit the thin Needler squarely in the chest.

" _Don't touch him_."

"Why not?" Webs frowned. "He's a Needler now too, isn't he?"

"He will be." Tomlinson's ice blue eyes flickered over Harry for an instant. "But that doesn't matter. He's off limits, Webs. Spread the word."

"Will do." Webs was looking at him with more interest now, as though Harry were an exotic new confection he'd like to taste. Jaw clenched, Harry stared back at him. He wasn't used to other guys giving him that look. The same look he'd give to a pretty girl if he was Earth-side.

"And stop looking at him like you want to lick him or you're going to have a fight on your hands." Tomlinson's voice was flat. He grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him into the small room past the tall, thin Needler.

 

Harry, whose hands had been clenching for a punch, was both relieved and disappointed. Dinner in the mess hall with about a hundred other noisy cadets hadn't done a thing to relieve the incredible tension he'd built up at the target range. While his new partner talked blandly about the design and flight properties of the standard M-class Needle, Harry had been fuming. What he really wanted was a good fight to take the edge off and some asshole trying to kiss him would have given him the perfect excuse to start one. By the expression in Tomlinson's eyes when he turned his head to look at Harry, he knew exactly what Harry had been thinking. 

 

"Come on, Styles," he murmured, tugging at Harry's arm. "I brought you here to make friends, not enemies. Like it or not you're a Needler now and you're going to need the support of your rankmates to make it."

"I don't need anybody," Harry muttered resentfully. But he let himself be towed into the small, metal-walled room completely different from any other space he'd seen so far at the Academy.

 

The Needlers' lounge looked like whoever had decorated couldn't decide if they were left-brained or right-brained. The area was strewn with colorful air cushions that actually looked comfortable in contrast to every other piece of furniture Harry had seen since stepping off the transport. As if to offset the color near the floor, the walls were decorated with stark black-and-white flow charts of Needle specs. He could also hear what sounded like soothing zitherphone music coming from one of the overhead speakers, which was just weird. Apparently the other Needlers had very electic tastes. Harry began to feel as if he had somehow wandered into a different world —one as different from the ordered and hard-nosed outer façade  of the Academy as possible. The question was, _did he really belong here?_

Various people were sitting on both the air cushions and the floor, which was covered in a deep blue synthi-fur rug, and talking quietly. A few of them had the traditional buzzed haircut that most of the Academy cadets wore but many of them, like Tomlinson, had hair that reached to their collars and beyond. Suddenly Harry didn't see his determination to keep his own hair intact as quite so special and distinct. What was the big deal if all the other Needlers were wearing their hair longer than scalp length too?

Tomlinson took him around and introduced him to a few of the other Needlers, kissing them all casually on the cheek or mouth as he greeted each one. The weird display was beginning to get on Harry's nerves. But since everyone else in the room seemed to take it as a matter of course, he didn't say anything even though his skin wanted to crawl off his body every time he saw two male mouths collide.

 

"And  this is Jimmy and Timmy Turnix and Landrews and Sanderson." Tomlinson's voice broke through his train of thought and made him look up to see where his partner was pointing. Even though he recognized the names of Landrews and Sanderson as the top team and the crew to beat, it was Jimmy and Timmy who caught his attention first. They were obviously identical twins with matching brown hair and hazel eyes thickly fringed with black lashes. The one Ferron had identified as Timmy had a streak of blond in his hair but other than that, there would have been no telling them apart. They were sitting comfortably together, sharing a small air couch with their arms thrown casually around each other's shoulders.

"Hi. Nice to—" began one of the twins when Harry nodded in their direction.

"Meet you," his brother finished for him and then they both gave Harry identical grins. Harry felt himself smiling back almost unwillingly and muttering that it was nice to meet them too. These two just seemed so normal in what he had begun to feel was a room full of freaks and he noticed that neither of them made any attempt to kiss either him or Tomlinson, which was a big relief.

"Landrews, Sanderson, this is my new gunner, Harry Styles," Tomlinson said, pulling him away from the twins. Harry was a little surprised that his new partner even knew his first name. Then he got too caught up in watching the top-ranked Needle crew to think about it.

 

Sanderson was a tall, muscular cadet who looked like he lifted weights every spare minute. His biceps and thighs bulged through the thin black material of the Academy uniform and his dark brown hair was cut in a tight military crew cut unlike most of the other Needlers. Seated beside him, or rather, draped over him since the air cushion they were sharing was really only big enough for one, was Landrews.

Sanderson's partner was a willowy and slender as Sanderson was bulky and muscular. He had a shock of pale platinum hair that was carefully gelled into fashionable spikes and his eyes were a pale amber color Harry had never seen before. When Tomlinson introduced them, both men rose as one. Sanderson leaned over and gave Tomlinson a brisk peck on the cheek, what looked like the oral equivalent of a short handshake to Harry. In contrast, Landrews immediately wrapped his arms around Tomlinson and pulled him close for a long, lingering kiss that made Harry's stomach turn over.

It wasn't so much that the liplock disgusted him, because even though it was between two guys, Landrews was so pretty he might easily have been mistaken for a girl. No, what bothered him was the possessive way the other man put his hands all over Tomlinson and the obvious passion in the shared kiss. _He's my partner!_ he found himself thinking and then wondered what the hell was wrong with him. Why should he give a damn if Tomlinson decided to play tonsil hockey 3 with one of the other Needlers? Other than the fact that it was disgusting, of course, he reminded himself.

 

"That's enough, Chris," Tomlinson said finally, pushing the other cadet away. "Styles here is already freaked out enough without watching you try to give me a root canal with your tongue."

"But your mouth is so _pretty._ It was just made to be kissed." Landrews patted Tomlinson's cheek before turning his attention to Harry. "Mmm, but your new boy toy has a beautiful pair of lips too, I see."

"Back off." Harry put up a hand to ward off the effeminate Needler's advances. " _I mean it,_ man, get away from me."

Landrews took a tiny mincing step backward, one hand going to his mouth. " _Oh my_ ," he said, looking at Tomlinson with one platinum eyebrow raised. "You poor baby! I can't believe they gave you a _latent_ for your new gunner."

"A _what?_ What did you call me?" Harry could feel his hands clenching into fists again. He really wanted to pound this asshole for some reason.

"Easy, Styles." Tomlinson put a hand on his arm and shook his head. "Remember you need to take care of your hands and punching a hole through Landrews here isn't exactly the best way to do that."

"I just want to know what he means." Harry was still breathing hard, still feeling stuck in this weird situation and angry at how helpless he was to get out of it.

"A latent _homosexual_ , honey," Landrews said, with a little sneer in his voice. "Someone who hasn't admitted who they really are yet."

"Are you calling me a _faggot_?" Harry was more than ready for a throwdown now. He pushed past Tomlinson and pressed his face into Landrews' aggressively. But suddenly, instead of the other Needler's weird amber eyes he found himself staring at Sanderson's broad, sculpted chest.

"That's enough." Sanderson's voice was quiet but filled with menace. "Step down and leave my gunner alone. _Now._ "

"Better back off, Newbie." Tomlinson pulled him away, shaking his head. "I've seen Sanderson pound bigger guys than you to the ground for less. He's only cutting you slack because you're new."

"And because you're a _latent_ ," Landrews taunted, his tawny eyes laughing from behind his partner's broad back.

Harry felt as if someone had fed him a mouthful of thumbtacks and told him to swallow them or else, but he forced himself to step back and stand by Tomlinson despite the burning in his gut. "Whatever," he muttered angrily. "But I'm not a...not what he says I am."

"Of course you are, honey." Sanderson and Landrews were seated on the air cushion once more and Landrews was draped over his muscular partner's lap. "Why else do you think you were picked for a Needle crew? Superfast reflexes and god-like hand-eye coordination just aren't enough —not when it comes to the Needle's neural net system. And don't think just because you look straight you don't have any inclinations. Look at my sweetie Jon here." He elbowed Sanderson in the ribs playfully.

Sanderson made an annoyed-sounding grunt. "Chris, come on..." He sounded tired and not too happy.

 

Harry felt cold all over. _Could Landrews be telling the truth?_ Was that why his cock had gotten so hard while Tomlinson touched him and... he pushed the thought away. _No_ , that had to be wrong. He wasn't like any of these freaks. He was the one normal guy who had gotten thrown in with them by accident. He turned to Tomlinson who had a neutral expression on his face.

 

"You told me not all Needlers are... that way," he said accusingly. "You told me it doesn't have to be that way between us."

"It does if you want to  be the _best_." Landrews gave Harry a poisonous smile and blew him a kiss. "Tell them, sweetie. Go on." He nudged Sanderson again and smiled. The muscular cadet looked extremely uncomfortable but at last he nodded, his eyes never meeting Harry's.

"It's true that a physical connection with your partner outside the Needle leads to a definite edge in a flight and combat situation," he said dryly. Harry thought he sounded more like a professor lecturing on the subject of combat tactics than a man who was head over heels for his partner. He glanced at Tomlinson to see how his own partner was taking this but the tall cadet had pulled up a blue air cushion and was quietly watching the conversation with no expression on his scarred face. Reluctantly, Harry pulled up a green cushion and sat beside him.

"I don't believe it," he said, keeping his voice low and his eyes on Sanderson instead of the leering Landrews. "I don't believe the Academy would actually induct cadets with known... tendencies to fly their most expensive and complicated ships on purpose."

Landrews gave a high, trilling laugh. "Look around you, sweetie. The Needle program is the biggest don't ask, don't tell in the entire military. You know, they tried using men and women instead of two men but their brain chemistry was just too different to work. Likewise with two straight guys who didn't want to have anything to do with each other. So here we have a room full of Needlers and not a straight one in the bunch — _yourself_ included."

 

"We're straight," a voice said, cutting off the angry retort Harry was about to make. He looked up to see the twins smiling at him again. Jimmy and Timmy Turnix had pulled their air cushion closer, apparently wanting to get in on the conversation.

"Of course you're straight," Landrews said disdainfully. "You're _twins._ "

"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry raised an eyebrow at Tomlinson but it was either Jimmy or Timmy who answered.

"Our brain chemistry is already so close that—" one of them began.

"We don't have to connect on a physical level fot the neural net to work," the other twin, the one with the blond streak in his hair, who Harry thought was Jimmy, finished.

 

 _Hmm, maybe not so normal after all_ , Harry thought.

 

"Why bother with anything?" Tomlinson said suddenly and Harry noticed that his partner's ice blue eyes were filled with pain. But when he tried to get a closer look, Tomlinson's expression abruptly went blank.

"Oh poor baby. We all know you still miss Sabine." Landrews reached forward to pat Tomlinson's knee but the tall cadet pushed his hand away. "It was so tragic what happened. I mean, to think that he actually—"

 

Harry wanted desperately to know what had happened but before Landrews could go on talking about it, Tomlinson cut him off.

 

"I don't need your sympathy, Chris. I just came by to introduce my new gunner to the rest of you." He sighed. "But I'm afraid now that he's met everyone he'd rather take a space walk without a suit than learn to fly a Needle."

"Sorry we scared your newbie," Landrews sniffed. "Jon and I can't help it if we like to make our feeling public. Right, Jon?" He kissed his muscular pilot on the cheek and Sanderson winced.

"Sure," he said, his voice wooden. "Absolutely."

Tomlinson shook his head and stood up in one fluid motion. "Well, we'd better go. Styles here has classes tomorrow with the rest of the rabble and then he needs to get in some more simulator practice."

 

Harry rose with a feeling of intense relief. At last they were leaving this freak show behind! And even if it meant more of the excruciatingly uncomfortable target practice with the simulator, he just wanted to get away from Landrews and his weird and uncomfortable accusations.

 

"Come on, Styles." Tomlinson jerked his head in the direction of the door. "We're leaving."

" _Hasta la vista_ , sweetie," Landrews called after them. "Come back again real soon and don't be a stranger."

 

But as the metal door to the lounge slid shut behind him, Harry thought that if he never went to the Needlers' lounge again it would be too soon. From the look on Tomlinson's face, it wasn't his favorite place to be either. So then why had he taken Harry there? What did he expect to accomplish?

Harry had no idea, but he didn't intend to come back, no matter what his tall, dark and brooding partner said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tonsil hockey, french kissing; intimate kissing.


	7. Chapter 6

"You have to be kidding me. There's no way I'm taking a shower with you. _No...fucking...way._ " Harry shook his head, staring at his new partner in disbelief. It had been a long day between his first target range session when he finally accepted that he was stuck with Tomlinson, like it or not, until the moment they both came back to their quarters and began to get ready for bed. Harry was worn out from all the emotion and tension he'd been through as much as the horrible case of jet lag4 he was still suffering from. All he wanted to do was take a shower —alone— and fall into bed. Again, alone. But it didn't look like he was going to get to do either of those things. At least not alone.

"You can and you will take a shower with me or you won't take a shower at all and you'll stink. And let me tell you, Newbie, I don't let anyone sleep in my bed who stinks."

"Doesn't bother me." Harry crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "So I won't take a shower and I'll sleep on the floor. Suits me fine."

 

Tomlinson gave an exaggerated sigh and sank down on the side of the bed. "You must have a death wish. I can't believe they gave me another partner who..."

"Who what?" Harry demanded but the tall cadet only shook his head.

"Nothing. Look, Styles," he said, looking up, his dark face weary. "I know you think I just want to strip you naked and molest you but I promise you that is _not_ my intention."

"What other intention can you have?" Harry demanded. "I saw the way those guys looked at each other in the lounge and I got what they do. And I don't care what that asshole Landrews says, I'm not like that. So there's no way in hell I'm getting naked with you in an enclosed space."

"Fine. Then I guess you don't want to fly a Needle after all."

"What?" Harry stared at him in disbelief. " _Are you kidding me?_ Are you telling me we have to be in the Needle together..."

"Naked," Tomlinson finished for him. "Nude. Bare. Exposed. Unclothed. Stripped. Undressed—"

"I get it, I get it." Harry held up a hand to stop his partner's sarcastic tirade. God, it seemed like the minute he thought he knew the situation he was up against, things changed and got even worse. Only it wasn't a situation he was going to be up against, he reminded himself, it was Tomlinson. Or rather, Tomlinson was going to be up against him. _Nude._

"Sorry." Tomlinson reclined on the bed gracefully. He didn't look or sound the least bit sorry to Harry. "Look," he said. "Usually cadets have a good six months to get used to the idea of being strapped into the Needle with their partner naked as the day they were born. You, unfortunately, don't have that luxury. You have exactly one month to wrap your head around it. Less than a month now."

"Look, Tomlinson, I just can't... I mean, I don't..." Harry heard desperation in his own voice and it made him angry. _He shouldn't have to be dealing with this kind of shit, damn it!_

"You can and you will." Tomlinson stood up suddenly. "Now strip, Newbie. Or I'm going to strip you myself."

"Come on and try it." Harry felt his hands clench into fists at his sides as the tension he had been feeling all day suddenly boiled over.

Tomlinson's eyes flashed. "Oh Styles, you _really_ don't want to get into this with me right now."

 

But that was exactly what Harry wanted. He wanted to pound away the weird feeling that had been eating at him and since he couldn't do that, pounding the source of those feelings seemed like the next best thing. Striding forward, he took a swing at his tall partner, itching to hear the crunch of his knuckles connect with Tomlinson's aristocratic bone structure.

The crunch never came. Instead, Tomlinson stepped nimbly aside in a move so graceful he looked like a dancer. The momentum  of his punch carried Harry forward and onto the bed where he lay sprawled like an uncoordinated crab.

In less than a second, Tomlinson was on top of him, pinning him to the bed. Harry gasped and struggled under the older man but it was no use. Tomlinson sat directly on his lower back and grabbed both of Harry's arms, pinning them behind him. Once again Harry was helpless and once again he felt his shaft begin to rise for some strange reason.

 _This is how it's going to be_ , he thought. _Only we'll both be naked and he'll be stretched out on top of me. I'll feel his cock grinding against my naked ass and there won't be anything I can do but take it —take anything he decides to do to me. Anything at all. Sick, this is so goddamn sick!_

If it was so sick, why was his cock about to drill a hole in the mattress beneath him? Why did the feeling of being held down, restrained, helpless in the arms of another man do this to him? It made Harry think if the next time he jerked off he'd be thinking of his girlfriend... or his new partner.

The strange arousal mixed with his confusion and growing self-loathing, not to mention the rage he felt at Tomlinson, was suddenly too much. To his horror, Harry felt the hot sting of tears pricking at his eyelids. _Oh God, please don't let me cry. Not here, not now!_

But it didn't seem to matter how much he didn't want to cry, the tears were going to come anyway. Harry felt them trickling down the sides of his face as his shoulders heaved with silent sobs. He turned his head into the mattress, humiliated that Tomlinson should see him  like this, and tried to let the tears fall quietly.

He expected a sarcastic remark from his new partner, something snide about how the poor little newbie was homesick and if he couldn't take it maybe he should go back to Earth. What he didn't expect was to feel Tomlinson release his arms and run a gentle hand through his hair.

 

"Let it out." The older cadet's voice was quiet and soothing. "Just let it all out."

 

The unexpected kindness was Harry's undoing. Fisting his hands in the navy blue coverlet, he let the misery take him and cried like he hadn't cried since he was a little boy. The entire time Tomlinson caressed his shaking back and shoulders, softly murmuring words that made no sense but soothed anyway.

 

"God, I'm sorry," Harry moaned at last when he had regained some semblance of control. " _I'm so sorry_."

Tomlinson slid off his back and lay beside him on the bed. "Sorry for taking a swing at me or sorry for crying?" His deep voice was still gentle, although there was a hint of amusement in it.

 

Harry sniffed and turned his head to face the ice blue eyes in his partner's scarred face. They were close —so close that he could smell peppermint on Tomlinson's breath but he was too tired to move. _Too tired to care._

 

"Sorry for losing it," he said stiffly. "I don't give a damn about trying to pound you. You goddamn well deserved it after what you put me through today."

 

Unexpectedly, Tomlinson smiled. Not the cold, cynical grin Harry had begun to get to know though —this smile actually reached his eyes. Could it be that his new partner wasn't a complete bastard after all?

 

"Maybe I do at that," he said. "But if you break my nose, you have a good chance of breaking your hand too and we can't have that. Not to mention I have enough beauty marks to last me for the rest of my life." He touched the white scar that marred the right side of his face lightly with his fingertips.

"How'd you get that anyway?" Harry said, feeling reckless enough to ask about the scar since Tomlinson had mentioned it first. "Did your last partner, Sabi—"

" _Watch it_ , Newbie." The warmth was suddenly gone from Tomlinson's eyes and he sat up abruptly. "Come on, it's getting late. Time for a shower."

 

Harry thought about protesting that he wasn't going to shower with the other man but then he remembered that was what had started this whole thing in the first place. And to be honest, he just didn't have the energy to start it all over again. Dully he got off the bed and followed Tomlinson into the small fresher cubical.

 

"Well, come on. Or do I have to do it for you?" The water was already running, creating a cloud of steam while the older cadet stripped out of the tight black Academy uniform. He stepped out of the clingy black fabric, revealing a lean, muscular physique that looked like something a sculptor would want to carve. He had broad shoulders that led to well-muscled arms and long legs dusted with the same brown hair on his head. His nipples were flat copper disks on his smooth, hairless chest and his cock...

 

 _Christ, why am I looking at his cock?_ Harry turned his head away in a hurry but not before Tomlinson had seen where his eyes were fixed.

 

"Satisfied that I'm not itching to deflower your virgin ass, Styles?" he asked, indicating the flaccid state of his long, uncut shaft. "Don't you think if I was waiting for you to drop the soap I'd be at least half hard by now?"

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with." Harry muttered, keeping his eyes down as he shed his own uniform. _And to think, for a minute I thought he might be halfway decent._ The memory of Tomlinson's hand stroking his back, carding through his hair and his deep voice murmuring soothing nothings still remained but he was beginning to wonder if it was some kind of hallucination he'd suffered while under extreme stress. The tall, naked man with the cold, arrogant sneer on his face in no way resembled the Tomlinson of a few minutes before.

"Fine. Into the shower —go ahead, you first." Tomlinson indicated the small square shower stall with one hand, motioning for Harry to get in.

"I go first so you can be behind me, I guess," Harry muttered rebelliously even as he stepped into the steaming water. "Is there ever going to be any situation where _I_ get to be behind _you_?"

"Why, is that a particular fantasy of yours?" Tomlinson's voice was mildly sarcastic.

Harry felt himself flushing to the roots of his fair hair as the spray of hot water hit him in the face. "You know what I mean, you bastard. I mean why do you always have to  be at my back?"

Tomlinson sighed. "For the last time —because that's the way we're going to be in the Needle. And because it makes it so much easier for me to wash it for you."

 

Harry nearly jumped a foot when he felt a warm, soapy hand caressing the bare skin of his back. He started to turn but Tomlinson put his other hand on Harry's shoulder and gripped hard.

 

"Eyes front, Newbie. I won't go below the waist. I'm just washing your back —tonight, anyway."

"I don't see why I should have to put up with you touching me," Harry said through gritted teeth. " _I don't fucking want you touching me!_ "

"Does it bother you because it's an invasion of your personal space? Or because it gives you a hard-on?" Tomlinson's voice was clinical and detached as he continued to caress Harry's bare back in long, sensual strokes.

" _You son of a bitch!_ " Harry tried to turn again and again the iron grip on his shoulder stopped him.

"You _will_ get used to my hands on your body, Green Eyes," Tomlinson said coolly. "You have no choice so you might as well get over it now."

"Why —do you have to _jerk me off_ in order to fly the _goddamn_ Needle?" Harry asked acidly.

"It would actually strengthen our neural net connection if I did but you might be a little too distracted to shoot at the targets if I was making you come at the same time," Tomlinson said casually, as though Harry had asked a legitimate question. "Although I understand some of the other Needlers —I probably don't have to tell you which ones— have mastered the technique of concentrating through an orgasm."

" _Jesus!_ " Harry felt like he might be sick. The worst thing was that even though he was back to hating the older cadet, Tomlinson's hands on his body still made him react. And the way his partner talked about making him come, as though it were no big deal, made things worse —filled his head with all kinds of images he didn't want to think about but seemed helpless to get rid of. His cock was rock-hard and he felt as if he'd been in a state of arousal all day. All he wanted was a minute alone — _hell, thirty seconds would do_ — to jerk off. But it didn't look like Tomlinson was going to give him any privacy at all and he was damned if he'd masturbate with the other man watching. Especially when Tomlinson would probably guess the cause for his arousal in the first place.

As though reading his mind, Tomlinson slapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, I think you're clean enough now. Your body anyway —your mind is an entirely different story." He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the metal rack bolted to the wall and then handed one to Harry as he stepped out as well.

 

Harry tried to hold the limp scrap of material in front of his crotch to hide his cock, which stubbornly refused to go down, but Tomlinson only laughed and shook his head.

 

"Just hurry up and dry off, Newbie. Who cares if you've got a hard-on?"

 

Feeling as if his face was on fire, Harry dried the rest of his body with a few hasty swipes of the towel and then reached for his discarded uniform. 

Tomlinson was too quick for him. In one motion he grabbed both of their silky black uniforms and stuffed them down the rectangular laundry chute directly below the towel rack.

 

Harry frowned. "Why'd you do that? What are we supposed to wear?"

"Laundry services brings new suits at oh six hundred hours every morning." Tomlinson was already sauntering back into the bedroom. Harry followed him warily.

"No, I meant what do we wear to bed?" he asked. But he had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

"You're looking at it." Tomlinson indicated their current state of undress with a casual wave of his hand.

" _Shit._ I guess I should have known. Let me guess... the reason we're sleeping naked together is because—"

"Skin-to-skin contact increases the bond between partners and translates into a tighter neural net connection in the Needle," Tomlinson finished for him. Then he gave Harry a withering look. "Don't worry, Newbie. I promise not to fuck your tight virgin ass while you're sleeping."

" _Bastard_." Harry glared at his partner, feeling defeated. He thought of rummaging through the plasti-wood dresser to see if there were some kind of pajamas provided on the off chance that Tomlinson was lying to him. But the look on the older cadet's face told him it was a futile hope.

"Come to bed, Styles." Tomlinson had already crawled under the navy blue coverlet and now he patted the space in front of him and yawned. "It's late and oh six hundred comes awfully early in the morning." He sighed."We should see to your hands but I think we can wait until tomorrow night to start that. I don't feel like fighting with you over any more inanities." With a murmured command he dimmed the lights, plunging the room into darkness.

 

Harry crawled in beside him unwillingly, fumbling blindly for the edge of the coverlet. He made sure to stay on the very edge of the mattress so that he wasn't touching Tomlinson in any way.

 

"That's the way you want to be, is it?" The older cadet's voice sounded bored. "Fine, more room for me. But don't blame me if you fall out of bed in the middle of the night because of your ridiculous homophobic tendencies."

"I'm not being ridiculous!" Harry protested. "And not wanting to sleep naked with another guy doesn't make me homophobic — _it makes me sane!_ " But his only answer was a soft snore —Tomlinson was already asleep.

 

After the exhausting day he'd had, Harry would have expected to drop off at once. But there were too many disturbing images in his head and his cock was still on full alert. He thought about trying to jerk off quietly but he was afraid any motion or sound might wake up his new partner and he couldn't stand any more of Tomlinson's sarcasm at the moment.

He lay looking up at the dark ceiling for a long time, feeling the body heat of his new partner radiating across the narrow strip of bed that separated them, and wondered how he was going to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jet lag, physiological condition which results from alterations to the body's circadian rhythms resulting from rapid long-distance transmeridian travel on high-speed aircraft.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burns portrayed as Liam Hemsworth; by the way this story take place in the space but they are all from the United States so the words are american and not british.

"Hey _, faggot!_ " The mess hall was crowded with cadets in their black Academy jumpsuits sitting at long tables and it took Harry a minute to realize that the slur was directed at him. He was alone for once since Tomlinson had second lunch and he had third. They had different classes too —Tomlinson was in advanced flight dynamics and Harry was still working through the first-year basics.  He was glad about that —he spent enough time with his partner as it was, in his opinion. Still, it might have been handy to have the tall, indomitable cadet at his back right now. Instead he had no one.

"I said hey, _faggot_!"

 

Harry turned, the metal tray filled with what the Academy considered lunch clutched in his hands, and found himself staring at the red face and bulging china blue eyes of the cadet who had been shouting at Tomlinson in the corridor on his first day at the Academy. _What was his name again?_ Oh yes, Burns.

 

"Yeah, faggot, he's talkin' to you." One of the other cadets with skull-cut hair, obviously one of Burns' group, grinned at Harry challengingly.

 

Harry felt his jaw tighten but there were five of them and only one of him. Besides that, they were in the middle of the crowded mess hall and he didn't need a bunch of demerits on his record during his first week at the Academy.

 

"Look, I just got here a couple days ago. I don't even know you so why don't you leave me alone and let me eat my lunch?" he asked, addressing Burns since he was obviously the leader. He tried to step around them but Burns quickly moved to block his path.

"You may not know us but we know you, Styles. You're a Needler, right?"

"Yeah, I am." Harry nodded at the insignia on his uniform. "You jealous?"

"Oh sure, _real_ jealous." Burns grinned at him, an ugly, reptilian grimace that spoke more of hate than any good humor. "In fact, we heard they paired you with _the Falcon_. Is that right?" The way he said Tomlinson's nickname made it sound like a curse.

"Yeah, that's right." Harry squared his shoulders. "So what?"

"So you're his new gunner, right?"

"Yeah, so?" Harry shrugged but instead he was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. 

"So that means in the Needle, he gets to be behind you." Burns was grinning even wider if that was possible.

"I haven't been in a Needle yet." Harry avoided the question but the sickness inside him was growing. "I need more training first."

"But he _does_ get to be behind you," Burns asserted. "So here's my question, Styles. Has he got you taking it up the ass yet or are you just sucking his cock? You know —for training purposes?" His question was met by a burst of trollish laughter from his group and quizzical looks from some of the other cadets sitting nearby at the long mess tables.

 

Harry felt a blush creeping up his cheeks. They were beginning to attract attention. The worst thing was that Burns' hateful accusations weren't completely unfounded. Every day he spent hours at the gun range with Tomlinson's arms wrapped around his waist as he struggled to improve his ratings.  And every night they showered and slept together nude. He suddenly felt like everyone in the mess hall must know his shameful secret —that he not only did these things with his partner but was almost getting used to them. _Almost liking them_ , a voice whispered in his head but he pushed it away savagely.

 

"We don't do that kind of shit," he said clearly, glaring at Burns. "In fact, the way I hear it, you and your little group are the cocksuckers around here."

"Why, _you little shit!_ " One of the other cadets in the group surged forward but Burns held up a hand to stop him.

"Say what you want, Styles, we all know the score. You're Tomlinson's little bitch now, just like Sabine was before. That's why you kept your pretty curls, isn't it? So he could have something to hold on to while he fucks your sweet mouth?" He reached out to run a hand through Harry's shaggy brown blond hair but Harry pulled his head back, still glaring, measuring the other cadet with his eyes. Burns was older but not that much bigger and he wasn't so much muscular as big —almost fat in fact. _I could take him_ , Harry thought. And suddenly the sickness in the pit of his stomach was gone, replaced by a growing rage.

"You talk big when you have your boys to protect you, Burns," he said, struggling to keep his voice low, to keep his anger in check. "But how about if it was just you and me? How about we take this somewhere and finish it?"

 

Burns paled a little and Harry felt a moment of triumph. He'd known it all along —Burns was a bully, but a coward. He felt his fingers tighten on the sides of the metal tray, the knuckles going white with tension. He couldn't _wait_ to pound this bastard.

 

"Oh you'd like that wouldn't you? You'd love to get me alone and teach me some of what Tomlinson has been teaching you —like how to suck cock," Burns taunted, obviously still feeling safe around his group.

 

That was it. Harry no longer cared that they were in the crowded mess hall or how many demerits he would receive. Carefully he put the metal tray with the cooling food down on the nearest table and turned back to face the group.

 

"Come on." He motioned to Burns with one hand, the other clenched in a fist. "Let's see how big you talk with a busted lip." From the corner of his eye he noticed that the other cadets at third lunch had stopped eating and talking. The mess hall was almost completely silent as they watched to see what would happen next. As yet, there were no teachers around but Harry knew that could change at any second. He just hoped he'd be able to get in one good shot before someone in authority got wind of what was happening.

"Go, Styles! Kick his ass!" shouted someone from the back of the mess hall. Harry was surprised that anyone besides the other Needlers even knew his name but it gave him a burst of confidence.

"I said come on, Burns." He motioned again. "Just you and me, one-on-one."

 

Burns looked around at the watching eyes and licked his lips nervously. "I would but you're not worth the demerits," he said, still trying to sound cocky.

"Or is it that you're afraid I'll pound the shit out of you in front of the entire mess hall?" Harry taunted. "Come on, Burns, let's see what you've got. If you're not too big a pussy to fight."

 

It was too big a challenge for even Burns to ignore. With a roar like a bull he charged Harry. Borrowing a move from Tomlinson, Harry stepped neatly away. By the time the bulky Burns had gotten himself turned around for another charge, he was ready for the older cadet. He gave Burns a solid right hook to the face, feeling a thrill at the satisfying _crunch_ as his fist connected with Burns pug nose. At the same time he felt something give in his right hand, near his knuckle, but he didn't even care. Just at that moment, he was willing to go through any amount of pain as long as he could inflict a greater amount on Burns.

 

"Ow! _You son of a bitch!_ " Burns gave up any pretense of fighting and cupped his crooked nose that was fountaining blood. The words came out sounding like "thon of a bith", which made Harry laugh, earning him a murderous glare from the other man.

 

The other cadets in Burns group were advancing now, obviously intent on finishing what their fearless leader had started. Harry had no idea how he was going to take all four of them but right then with the adrenaline coursing through his system he was more than willing to try.

 

"What's going on here? Break it up!" The voice of Captain Emil, Harry's Military History teacher, suddenly rang out above the shouts and taunts of the other students. He reahed the spot where Harry and Burns were standing and put his hands on his hips. "Somebody want to tell me what's going on here?"

"He punched me for no reason!" Burns pointed to his gushing nose as proof.

"Sir, Cadet Burns was provoking me," Harry said, trying to look innocent. "I think he's jealous that I'm in the Needle program and he's not."

"That isn't true, I—" Burn began angrily.

Captain Emil held up a hand to stop him. "All right, I've heard enough. Cadet Burns," he turned to the red-faced Burns, frowning, "you have been reprimanded several times and again for harassing the students in the Needle program. I am giving you fifteen demerits. If I hear of another incident, you will be expelled."

Burns gave the teacher an ugly look. "You can't expel me. _Do you know who my father is?_ You'll be lucky to keep your stupid job here at the shithouse when I tell him how you let Styles break my nose and gave _me_ demerits."

Captain Emil frowned. "Another fifteen demerits for back talk, Cadet. And for the record, I don't care who your father is, if you can't obey orders you _will_ be expelled from this Academy. _Do I make myself clear?_ "

"Yes sir." Burns gave a sulky salute with one bloody hand, glaring at Harry the entire time.

"Cadet Styles," Captain Emil turned to Harry who was glaring back at Burns. With an effort he forced himself to look away from the bulging blue eyes and face his teacher.

"Yes Sir?" he said respectfully, vaguely aware that his right hand had begun to swell. 

"fifty demerits for fighting in the mess hall. And I trust you know this will affect your ratings?"

 

Harry stifled a groan. _As if he wasn't low enough in the standings already!_ If he'd known that demerits directly affected his ratings he might have thought harder before throwing that punch, no matter how mad Burns had made him. Plus his hand was really beginning to _hurt_.

 

"Yes Sir," he said again. "I'm sorry, Sir. It won't happen again."

"It better not. Now you two go. Burns to the infirmary and Styles get back to lunch and I don't want to hear any more about this." Captain Emil made a shooing motion with his hands. The noise level in the mess hall suddenly went back to normal as the other cadets realized that the show was over.

 

Harry picked up the metal tray with his now ice-cold lunch on it. He had no interest in eating it but at least it was something to do. He was about to go by the garbage and dump the contents in the dispisal drain when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Burns still staring at him, a murderous hatred in his bulging blue eyes. When he saw Harry watching he mouthed the words, ' _This isn't over',_ before turning away.

A cold finger of dread made its way down the groove in Harry's spine but he shook it off. After all, Burns had already proven he couldn't take a punch. _Why should Harry be afraid of him in the future?_


	9. Chapter 8

"Take it all off. I mean, I don't want to be bald but just —don't leave more than an inch or two of stubble, all right?" Harry looked at himself in the mirrored wall that ran the length of shears. Green eyes stared out from his shaggy curls and his lips were set in a white line. He didn't know why he was doing this. He just knew the hair had to go.

"Okay, you got it, buddy." The barber, an older, balding man with muscles on top of muscles, punched in the instructions and settled the shiny metal helmet on Harry's head where it began to hum. In half a second it was done. With a buzzing sound and a final sucking _shoop_ as the hair was pulled away into the vacuum tube attached to the helmet, Harry's shaggy dark blond curls were gone.

"There ya go, kid." The barber lifted away the helmet, revealing Harry's shorn head with an inch and a half of dark blond stubble decorating it like dead wheat. He nodded approvingly. "Looks a hell of a lot better now if you ask me. Long hair might be all right Earth-side but up here it's just for homos. Am I right?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry mumbled, sliding out of the chair. "Thanks." The lunch with Burns was still fresh in his mind and his right hand was still swollen and throbbing. He was skipping his fourth period class, Advanced Aeronautics, to do this and he didn't think he'd go to his fifth either. Instead he planned to go down to the shooting range his ratings after receiving such an unheard-of number of demerits. Only alone, with no Tomlinson hanging all over him, could he really concentrate. Even with a busted hand Harry was sure he'd do better on the simulator than if he had his tall partner standing behind him, whispering in his ear.

 

He clenched the hand in question and winced at the bolt of pain that lanced through it. Well, he'd just have to suck it up and forget it. There was no way he was going to the infirmary when he knew for a fact that Burns was there getting his broken nose set. No, the shooting range was definitely the best place for him —the best place to work off some of the rage he was feeling by blasting a thousand targets into a million little pieces. And some of them would wear Burns' face and some would wear Tomlinson's. Because he never would have gotten into this situation in the first place if he hand't become a Needler and been paired with the Falcon.

 

 

**...**

 

 

"Sorry, Styles, the—"

"Simulator's in use."

 

Jimmy and Timmy Turnix gave him matching smiles, their identical brown eyes hidden behind round black goggles. Harry still couldn't tell them apart but one of them was strapped into the black and oily smart-metal simulator while the other stood behind him, arms draped loosely around his brother's waist. He watched the easy, casual way they stood and suddenly envied them fiercely for their identical brain chemistry. They obviously didn't have to be plastered all over each other to establish a neural link. It was enough for them to just be touching, and not even touching that closely. It made him mad and jealous at the same time. He sighed.

 

"Damn, I really need to work on my ratings. How long do you think you guys will be?"

The twins shrugged simultaneously as though they had planned the gesture in advance. "Sorry, Styles, we—"

"Just started. We'll be another—"

"Hour at least." They smiled at him apologetically. "But this isn't the only—"

"Simulator in the shithouse, ya know. Why don't you—"

"Go up to the fifth level and use the one across from the Needlers' lounge?"

Harry was surprised. "There's another shooting range? But this is the only one Tomlinson ever brings me to."

The twins both grimaced at once. "Probably because the other range is—"

"Reserved exclusively for Needlers. And sometimes things get a little—"

"strange. But the simulators work fine and if you can just—"

"Concentrate on your targets, you'll do fine."

 

Harry didn't see how things could get any stranger at the shooting range than they did in the lounge. Ever since his first introduction there, Tomlinson hadn't tried to get him to go back again, a fact for which he was profoundly grateful. Still, he thought he could handle seeing some of the other Needlers again —as long as they didn't try to kiss him that was, he thought, remembering the casual way they greeted each other with a shudder.

 

"Well then, I guess I'll go check it out. Thanks, guys." He turned to go but one of them —Harry had given up trying to guess which was which— spoke again.

"Hey, Styles, what did you do to your—"

"Hand?"

 

 _Is it that noticeable?_ Harry looked down at his swelled right hand and grimaced. _Guess it is._

 

He shrugged. "No big deal. Just punched someone who needed punching, that's all."

 

The twins exchanged a look behind their round black goggles.

 

"Was it—"

"Tomlinson?"

"No." Harry crossed his arms over his chest, wincing when the gesture hurt his hand. "He can be an annoying son of a bitch but I haven't punched him out yet." _Not for lack of trying_ , he reminded himself. But the memory of lying on the bed crying while Tomlinson stroked his back after he'd taken a swing at the older cadet was too embarrassing, too intense. He pushed it away and cleared his throat. "Uh, why do you ask?"

The twins looked at each other again and shrugged in unison. "It's just that—"

"He and Sabine, his old partner—"

"Had it over a few times when they were first paired up."

"But they started to get along—"

"After a while. They went eveywhere together. Kind of like—"

"We do. It wasn't until about a week before—"

"Sabine died that he—"

"Got real quiet again and stopped—"

"Hanging out with Tomlinson."

"Really?" The skin at the back of Harry's neck began to crawl. Maybe this was his chance to find out what had really happened between Tomlinson and his old partner. "So, uh, how did he die?" he asked, hoping he sounded casual.

Again the look and the double shrug, which was really beginning to get on his nerves. "No one knows," the twins said at the same time.

"There was an investigation but—"

"No findings were ever released. At least not—"

"To us."

Harry struggled to conceal his impatience. "But what about all the rumors? You know that Tomlinson had a, uh, hand in Sabine's death?"

The twin with the blond streak in his hair —Timmy?— shook his head, independently of his brother. "Tomlinson's still flying so he can't have had anything to do with it," he said certainly.

"But he's the best pilot that's ever come through the shithouse," his brother protested. "They'd probably keep him, no matter what."

 

Harry frowned, defeated. If there was enough uncertainty to cause a difference of opinion even between Jimmy and Timmy, he might never learn the truth. Well, it wasn't as though Tomlinson had threatened him in any way, although he had made it clear that first night who would come out on top —literally— in a fight.

 

"Look, guys, I really need to get going. Got to work on those ratings." He gave them a smile and turned away again.

"Okay, Styles. See you—"

"Later. Nice—"

"Haircut," they called after him as he left.

 

Harry shook his head as he left for the upper level transport. He liked Jimmy and Timmy but it still freaked him out that those two were the most normal Needlers at the entire Academy. It made him wonder what the hell had shown up on his tests that he should be stuck in with the freaks. But he was afraid to examine that line of thought too much. Better he should just work on his ratings and try to forget everything else.


	10. Chapter 9

The doorway to the Needlers' shooting range was just past the one leading into the lounge. Harry sneaked quietly past, almost holding his breath and hoping that none of the other Needlers would be coming or going right then. He didn't need any more conflict or confrontation today even though he was still spoiling for a fight. The one swing he'd gotten in on Burns had been satisfying but the tension from the scene in the mess hall was far from dissipated. Still, if he got any more demerits he wouldn't be able to repair his ratings unless he stayed at the Academy until he was ninety.

 _If I could just get some time alone maybe I wouldn't be so on edge all the damn time!_ It wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to him but it seemed impossible to make his wish a reality. During the day he was constantly in some kind of group activity then after classes ended he ate dinner with Tomlinson and spent the hours until lights out at the shooting range. After that they showered together and Tomlinson tended to Harry's hands, which consisted of massaging them with a special conditioning lotion to make them more sensitive to the JP sticks and helping Harry put on a pair of white cotton and silk gloves. Harry had protested from the first that he could do this himself but Tomlinson told him that it was tradition for a pilot to see to his gunner's hands every night and gradually, Harry had gotten to enjoy the process. It was soothing to have his hands so thoroughly massaged and tended to and Tomlinson always seemed less bad tempered while he performed the service for Harry. During the fifteen to twenty minutes it took he seemed more like he had that first night when Harry had cried and less like the sarcastic upperclassman who ridiculed him with sarcasm during the rest of the day.

But as much as he liked having his hands massaged, it meant that all the available free time he had was spent with his partner, leaving none for alone time. _No time to jerk off. No time at all_ , Harry thought ruefully. And his daily practice sessions with Tomlinson standing behind him, arms encircling his waist, whispering in his ear, produced enough tension in Harry to warrant jerking off several times a day —if he had been able to, that was.

Harry didn't like to consider why close contact with his partner was making him so tense and sexually overwrought. He preferred to accept the explanation that Tomlinson had given him the first day, than he was young and having a warm body —any warm body— pressed against his own was bound to cause a reaction. The problem was, it was a reaction he couldn't do anything about. He was afraid to jerk off under the covers at night since he shared the bed with Tomlinson and he knew if he went into the fresher cubical for long enough to take care of business, his partner would know what he was up to and no doubt tease him about it mercilessly. So all in all, it had been nearly a week since Harry had gotten any kind of relief and he was going  a little bit crazy. _That's why I took a swing at Burns_ , he admitted to himself. _That's why I couldn't just let that shit he was talking roll off my back._

For a moment he considered trying to find an empty bathroom and taking advantage of the time he had now. After all, he was recklessly skipping classes, which was _not_ done at the Academy. If he was caught he might be in serious trouble. But the reason he was skipping, he reminded himself, was to up his ratings. Mathematically if he scored another ten demerits for missing class without an excuse it was only worth it if he was able to work off the fifty he'd accumulated during the mess hall brawl. If he spent the precious free time he had stolen jerking off, he was literally pissing away any advantage he gained by breaking the stringent rules of the Academy. Therefore, it was time to stop dicking around and get down to business.

He pushed open the door leading to the shooting range and noticed that it led to a zigzagging corridor that effectively hid the range from sight until you walked down the maze-like hall. To his right was a row of lockers, he supposed for the Needlers to put their books and other personal items in while they practiced. None of them had locks but each locker had a name written in masking tape across the top. To Harry's surprise, he saw that one of them had his own last name, _Styles_ , on it. It was right beside Tomlinson's, of course, the lockers apparently being based on Needler partnerships instead of in alphabetical order.

Two of the lockers, labeled _Harwood_ and _Webs_ , hung open and Harry spied a silky black uniform hanging from the peg in each one. _What the hell?_ he wondered uneasily. Was there some kind of special suit he was supposed to wear while practicing here? He looked around but didn't see anything to change into. Well, maybe Harwood and Webs had brought a change with them. But _why?_

He walked slowly past the lockers and through the corridor, straining his ears even though he knew the simulator didn't make any sounds. He thought he heard the low murmur of male voices but he couldn't catch what they were saying.

It was ridiculous to be worried about running into the other Needlers, he told himself firmly. He would just walk right into the range, grab a pair of goggles and pick a simulator as far from the other two cadets as he could. If they tried to make conversation he would tell them that he had to work on his ratings. And if they tried to kiss him in greeting... well, the best thing to do was to quickly grab a simulator and stick his face in the smart-metal headset so it would be impossible. _Yeah, that's what I'll do._

Harry felt a measure of self-confidence return as he lifted his chin and walked calmly around the last corner and into the shooting range. He grabbed a pair of the round black goggles and was already striding toward the end of the range to get a simulator when he realized something wasn't right with the two other Needlers in the room.

The shooting range was long and narrow and dimly lit so it was impossible to be sure if he was seeing what he thought he was seeing without getting a little closer. Harry didn't want to but he couldn't help it.  Slowly he was drawn down the long, gloomy room, his eyes fixed on the two figures at the far end.

It was hard to tell but he thought Webs, the tall, thin cadet who had greeted Harry and Tomlinson at the door of the lounge, was the gunner. His face was covered with the smart-metal mask and his long, lean body was covered by his partner's, a cadet Harry didn't remember being introduced to earlier. He was nearly as tall as Webs but considerably more muscular with red hair and a freckled back. The fact that they were standing so close didn't surprise Harry though. The fact that both cadets were buck-naked did. Buck-naked and... _Jesus_ _—_ _what are they doing?_ Without meaning to Harry had drifted quietly into hearing range and what he heard confirmed his suspicions.

 

"You feel me in you, baby?" the muscular redhead who had to be Harwood was crooning in Webs' ear. "You feel me deep inside your tight little ass?"

"Yes, God, _yes._ " Webs' voice was high and tight with passion as his partner pumped into him, obviously fucking him as they practiced. But even though Harwood's hips were moving and his buttocks clenching in a tight, hard rhythm, Webs hands continued to manipulate the JP sticks with skill and precision while he took what looked to be a brutal pounding.

 

 _Probably hitting every goddamn target he aims at_ , Harry tought sickly, watching the display. Tomlinson's voice rang in his head. _Some of the other Needlers_ — _I probably don't have to tell you which ones_ — _have mastered the technique of concentrating through an orgasm._ Well, here was the proof right here. Harry remembered the twins telling him that things could get a little "strange" in the Needlers' shooting range. _A little strange. No shit. What a fucking understatement. Literally._

He knew he should back away, should tear his eyes from the sight in from of him and run back the way he'd come, but somehow he was glued to the spot. _What if that were Tomlinson and me?_ The tought came unbidden to his mind and once there refused to go. Harry shook his head, as if he could rid himself of the unwanted idea by physically shaking it out but it was no use —his stupid brain was already showing him images.

The sight of the two cadets in front of him, fucking, didn't do a thing for him but the idea of having his tall, acerbic partner standing behind him naked at the simulator, fucking him as he practiced certainly did. Harry felt his cock go rock-hard as he imagined Tomlinsom whispering in his ear so he moved inside his body. _He'd be using that soft voice, the soothing one. He'd sound the way he did after I got so upset that first night, the way he does when he massages my hands_ , he thought, helpless to stop entertaining the fantasy. He could almost hear Tomlinson whispering in his ear as he held him tight and moved inside him.

_Nice and easy, Styles. Just open up for me. Concentrate on the targets and let me fuck you, Green Eyes..._

_God, I have to stop thinking this way... have to get away!_ Harry squeezed his hands into fists even though the wounded right hand screamed in protest. But even though he knew he should go, he just couldn't look away —couldn't stop fantasizing and listening to the other two Needlers' conversation, if it could be called that.

 

"Don't stop," Webs was moaning, his fingers flying on the jump-pike sticks. "Don't stop, babe —I'm almost there. I'm so damn close!"

"Not gonna stop 'til I fill your sweet ass with cum," Harwood growled, increasing his tempo. "Keep it up —you're hitting them all. Finish the course with a perfect score and I'll give you a blowjob tonight you'll never forget, I swear."

"God, _Yes_  —want your mouth on me. Oh Jake —Jake, I'm coming! I'm coming so _hard._ "

 

Webs' high-pitched moans seemed to break Harry's paralysis. Turning from the lurid scene, he was about to run toward the exit and instead found himself running into the hard wall of someone's chest.

 

"Well, well, well. The twins said I might find you here although I had hoped I wouldn't." Tomlinson raised his scarred eyebrow. "So were you looking for a place to practice or a free show? Because I'd say you got two for the price of one, Green Eyes."

" _Christ_. You scared the shit out of me!" Harry ran his unhurt hand through his hair —or what was left of it— feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up to heat his cheeks. To be caught watching what he had been watching... and _thinking what he had been thinking._ Not that Tomlinson could know that, _thank God._ But still...

His motion must have drawn attention to his new haircut because Tomlinson eyed his shorn head and his blue eyes narrowed. "So you finally visited the shears, did you?"

"Yeah, I did." Harry narrowed his own eyes but in truth, he was more than happy to have another topic of conversation — _any_ other topic— besides the scene that was still going on behind him between Webs and Harwood. "Sorry if you don't like it," he said sarcastically. "But I thought it was time for a trim."

"What you do to your hair is your own business. I'm just disappointed you decided to conform in such a boring way." Tomlinson shook his head. "And can I assume you felt the need for this radical new haircut _after_ the brawl you had in the mess hall with Burns where he called you a faggot and accused you of taking it up the ass?" His voice was hard.

"Yeah, well I guess I can't blame him for making assumptions, now can I?" Harry heard the bitterness in his own voice and didn't care. "Of course, I wouldn't be having problems with him if all the other Needlers weren't such goddamn freaks. And if I wasn't paired with _you._ "

To his surprise, instead of a sarcastic comeback, Tomlinson sighed and shook his head. "No, you probably wouldn't. I should have warned you about him, Styles. He and I were in the same class back home and came up on the same transport back when I was first induced to the Academy. He was positive he was going to be a Needle pilot —like every other newbie asshole who comes up, myself included. When he got sent to work on jump-drive engines instead, he was pissed. He's never been able to forgive me for making pilot when he couldn't. To be honest, he probably wouldn't even be here at all if his father wasn't on the Peace Keeping Council Earth-side."

 

Harry remembered Burns snarling. ' _Do you know who my father is?_ ' in the mess hall when they were being reprimanded for fighting. "Well, I guess that answers a lot of questions," he said.

 

"Hey, Tomlinson, Styles. Didn't hear you come in." The voice behind him made Harry whirl around just in time to see a very naked Webs and Harwood walking toward them. Harwood was speaking but Webs chimed in, obviously completely unself-conscious about the idea that anyone might have seen them having sex.

"Yeah, we were kind of _busy_." He gave a high-pitched laugh that grated on Harry's nerves and then leaned over to give Tomlinson a quick peck on the cheek. Harwood did the same and Tomlinson returned their greetings without comment.

"Hey, if you're here to practice, stay away from simulator two," Harwood advised. "The right JP stick is sluggish. They need to get maintenance up here to look at it." He leaned in toward Harry who took an involuntary step back. _I swear to God if that asshole tries to kiss me..._

Tomlinson stepped neatly in between Harry and the other two men. "Sorry, my partner is still a little shy. It was nice seeing you though."

Webs pouted. "Well don't be a stranger, Louis. We never see you at the lounge anymore. Some of the other Needlers are beginning to get the idea you think you're better than your rankmates."

Tomlinson produced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nope, I've just been busy showing my new gunner here the ropes." He put an arm around Harry's shoulder and drew him close.

"Oh, I get it. Still in the honeymoon stage." Harwood nodded easily. "You two probably can't get enough of each other right now."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Tomlinson clamped a hand down on his shoulder and answered for him. "Yeah, that's pretty much it. But we'll be seeing you guys soon. Tell everyone we said hi." His tone was so plastic Harry didn't see how it fooled Harwood and Webs but the other two cadets seemed satisfied and moved off in the direction of the exit, laughing and talking. He was surprised when, instead of following them, Tomlinson turned to face him, his aristocratic face white with anger.

"All right, this ends now."

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Harry looked up at his partner, genuinely confused. "What ends now?"

"Your ridiculous avoidance issues. I know you don't like the way Needlers greet each other but the fact is, you're one of us now and you need to get over it."

"Look, I don't care what you say, I'm not kissing any other guys —especially not on the mouth." Harry took a step back, trying to pull away from Tomlinson's grip on his shoulder and failing.

"You can and you will." Tomlinson glared at him. "Didn't I tell you that you were going to need the acceptance of your rankmates? If you hadn't been avoiding all the other Needlers like the plague you might have had someone at your back instead of having to take on Burns and his entire crew single-handedly this afternoon."

 

Harry remembered that he had seen a few familiar faces in the mess hall during the fight —faces that had probably belonged to other Needlers. It had never occurred to him to ask them for help though— as far as he was concerned the disagreement was his fight alone.

 

"I don't need them. I can take care of myself," he muttered angrily, clenching his hands into fists and ignoring the throbbing pain in the right one.

"Sure you can. And as soon as Burns and his group gets you alone with no friends around you'll see exactly how well that philosophy works for you." Tomlinson's piercing blue eyes flashed like stars in his dark face. "Don't you get it, Styles? It's _us_ against _them_  —Needlers against everyone else at the shithouse. So we need to stick together. And that means that you and I need to make an appearance in the lounge soon."

"I don't want to—"

"Come here." Tomlinson drew him closer, forcing Harry to obey his order whether he wanted to or not.

"What are you doing?" Harry eyed him suspiciously. He was slowly getting used to having the older cadet invade his personal space but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"I'm going to kiss you." Tomlinson's voice was stern. "And then you're going to kiss me back."

" _Like hell I am!_ " Harry protested. But a quick struggle showed him that it was impossible to get free of Tomlinson's grip.

"Hold still." Tomlinson's voice was surprisingly soft although his hands on Harry's arms were like iron. "The sooner you do this right, the sooner I'll let you go. And anyway, it's not like I'm asking you to make out with me. A quick peck on the lips won't kill you, Styles."

 

Harry knew he was right but it was still hard to hold still as Tomlinson's face bent toward his. Hard because he thought he would die when he felt the other man's lips on his. Hard because there was a secret thought pounding in his brain that wouldn't let up. _What if I like it?_

 

"Quick and painless," Tomlinson murmured softly. His breath smelling as always of peppermint brushed featherlight across Harry's closed lips. "Just one quick kiss to get you used to the idea..."

 

His thin but sensual mouth descended and at the last minute Harry closed his eyes, unable to look. He felt the soft brush of his partner's mouth against his own and then Tomlinson was kissing him, not just pressing his mouth against Harry's but actively kissing him in a way that Harry had never been kissed before.

He was used to the sensation of a girl's mouth under his own, of the sticky feel of lip gloss or lipstick and the soft press of breasts against his chest. His girlfriend, whom he hadn't thought of for days he realized guiltily, always melted against him, her lips slippery and coated in some candy and wax flavored stuff that made them shine like she'd been drinking enamel.

What he wasn't used to was the feel of a hard chest against his own and the firm but gentle press of a male mouth against his. Tomlinson's lips weren't puffy or coated in gloss and he didn't taste like cotton candy or artificial cherries. Instead, his lips were warm and firm and insistent on Harry's mouth and he tasted faintly of cinnamon. Despite his promise to make the kiss brief, his hand crept up from Harry's shoulder to cup the back of his neck and Harry found that his own hands were on his partner's waist. He could smell Tomlinson's musk, the masculine scent of leather, spice and clean sweat that so affected him every time they practiced together, and he could feel the older cadet's cock branding his belly. He couldn't really complain about it though because his own shaft was at full mast and pressing hard against Tomlinson's thigh.

 _What am I doing? And why can't I stop feeling this way?_ he thought just before Tomlinson pulled back, breaking the kiss at last.

 

"See?" He was breathing heavily, the pupils of his eyes dilated so that the ice blue of his irises was nearly drowned in black. "I told you it wouldn't kill you."

Harry swallowed hard before he could answer. "I-I guess not," he mumbled at last. But he could still feel the burn of Tomlinson's mouth against his own and the throb in his cock. He was fairly sure that even if he did manage to get used to kissing other men on the mouth in greeting, none of the other Needlers would affect him this way. There was just something about his tall, dark partner that made Harry react —react in ways he never would have dreamed possible when he was back Earth-side.

"Now you." Tomlinson motioned to him but Harry just stared up at him stupidly, stunned from the kiss and uncertain what his partner was saying. Tomlinson sighed in obvious irritation but the look in his piercing eyes wasn't nearly as angry as he sounded. " _You_ kiss _me_ ," he explained, motioning at Harry again. "Pretend I'm one of the guys at the lounge and you're going to greet me."

"I..." Harry looked up at him uncertainly. Tomlinson shrugged and took a step backward, releasing Harry from his grip.

"Or don't if you don't want to," he said unexpectedly. "Your choice, Green Eyes, but you ought to practice if you don't want to freak out next time we go to the lounge. Which will be soon, I promise you that."

 

 _He's giving me a choice. I could end this right now_. Deep down Harry knew he ought to do just that and end it but somehow he couldn't. He wondered if Tomlinson was really as unaffected by the kiss they had shared moments before as he was pretending and then remembered the other cadet's hard cock against his belly. Slowly he took a step forward and lifted his face, pressing up to reach his tall partner's lips. A quick thought, _can't believe I'm doing this_ , flashed through his head like a meteor and was gone. And then he was kissing Tomlinson, kissing another man of his own volition for the first time.

During the week that he'd spent at the Academy, Harry had been subjected to experiences he never would have sought out on his own if he'd stayed Earth-side. The way Tomlinson touched him, washed him every evening in the shower, tended his hands, slept in the same bed with him at night —all of these were alien practices, things that would have made Harry run the other direction if he'd had any choice in the matter at all. But this was the first time he'd responded voluntarily, the first time he'd reached out to Tomlinson instead of the other way around and it made him almost dizzy with some emotion he couldn't name. Was afraid to name.

At first he barely brushed Tomlinson's lips with his own. Then, weaving the fingers of his unhurt hand into his tall partner's thick black hair, he pulled Tomlinson down and deepened the kiss. To his surprise, the older cadet didn't resist in the least. He flowed toward Harry like water, slanting his mouth over Harry's, pressing close so that Harry could once again feel the hot iron bar of Tomlinson's cock throbbing against his lower belly.

It was a strange and intoxicating feeling to be the aggressor for once and it went to Harry's head.  Without knowing he was going to do it, he parted his lips, changing the tenor of the kiss completely and inviting Tomlinson inside. The older cadet took the invitation in stride and before Harry knew it, Tomlinson was exploring his mouth, tasting him, owning him as he had never been owned before.

Tomlinson's tongue tasted like peppermint with a hint of salt, a flavor that was instantly addictive as far as Harry was concerned. Part of him couldn't believe he was doing this, couldn't believe he was willingly kissing another man and not just kissing him but accepting Tomlinson's tongue into his mouth and actually enjoying it. But another part, a larger part, just wanted the moment to never end so he wouldn't have to think about it, wouldn't have to analyze it to understand what it said about him.

 _It's just practice, like Tomlinson said. It doesn't mean anything_ , he told himself as the rough and luscious kiss went on and on. But his aching cock, pressed tight and hard against his partner's thigh, didn't seem to get the message.

At last the kiss ended, although Harry wasn't quite sure who ended it. He opened his eyes and found that he was standing with his arms around Tomlinson's neck and looking up into his partner's ice blue eyes. His mouth felt swollen from the passionate exchange and his cock was so hard he thought it might burst.

 

"Not bad for your first try, Newbie." Tomlinson's words were sarcastic but his voice was low and sensual.

"Th-thanks," Harry managed to mumble and then somehow unwound his arms from around his partner's neck and stumbled backward. He didn't really want to put the distance between them although he was aware that it was exactly what he should want. But he was afraid he would come right there, against Tomlinson's thigh, if he didn't get away. Tomlinson didn't seem to mind his step backward. He continued to hold Harry's gaze with his own as he spoke.

"From now on when we're alone together in our room, you greet me like that —with a kiss. You need to get used to doing it on a daily, casual basis until it doesn't freak you out anymore. Boundaries, Styles. You've got to lose them."

"That's not exactly—" Harry's voice came out as a croak and he cleared his throat and started again. "That's not exactly what's freaking me out right now."

"What, is _this_ still bothering you, Green Eyes?" Tomlinson reached out and casually stroked Harry's straining erection through the thin black material of his uniform.

" _God!_ " Harry jumped back as though he'd been burned and stifled a groan at the teasing touch.

"Mm-hmm, I thought so." Tomlinson nodded knowingly. "I thought I told you not to worry about that. Your body is bound to react sometimes to the things we do. It's all part of being a Needler. Just put it out of your mind and keep your eyes on the prize, all right?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say." Harry nodded and swallowed hard. "Uh, can I go back to the room now?"

"Hardly." Tomlinson smirked annoyingly as though he knew why Harry was desperate to go back to their quarters. "You cut class to work on your ratings, didn't you? That's what I told the two teachers you skipped out on, anyway. It's possibly the only excuse that'll keep you from piling on yet more demerits so it had better be true."

Harry nodded again. ""Yeah, but I was going to practice, uh, by myself. I thought... it's the only way to up the ratings."

Tomlinson frowned. "But it doesn't accurately reflect your ratings. To do that, you need me with you. So come on, you want to practice? We'll practice." He grabbed Harry's hand and started to pull him toward the line of simulators. But the hand he grabbed was the right one —the one Harry had wounded punching Burns.

" _Son of a bitch!_ " He winced and yanked his hand away before he could stop himself.

"What's this? What's wrong with your hand?" Tomlinson stopped at once and brought Harry's hand up to eye level. It was hard to tell in the dim light but it looked roughly twice as big as it should have been. Harry couldn't believe it but he had completely forgotten about his pain during the interlude with his partner. Now it came rushing back, along with apprehension when he wondered how Tomlinson would react to his injury. He didn't have long to wait.

"And just how long were you planning on hiding this from me?" Tomlinson looked up, his eyes a pale blue fire, the pupils tiny pinpricks again.

"I don't know." Harry suddenly found himself on the defensive and all the strange and disturbing feelings he'd been having for the older cadet suddenly vanished. "I didn't think it was that bad."

" _Didn't think it was that bad?_ It's obvioulsy broken, Styles. _What the hell is wrong with you?_ "

"Yeah, well you should see Burns' nose," Harry was stung into responding. "It's a hell of  a lot more broken than my hand."

"You little idiot. Burns doens't have to pilot a Needle with his  _nose_." Tomlinson's voice was low with suppressed fury. "Haven't I been telling you that you have to take care of your hands? What if the med-tech can't fix this? What the hell do you think is going to happen to us when we get in a Needle three weeks from now?"

Harry shrugged sullenly. "I don't know. I guess they'll drop me and get you a new partner. Isn't that what you want? Someone who knows what he's doing? Someone who's not an 'idiot'?"

" _No!_ " Tomlinson exploded, raising his voice at last. He ran a hand through his long brown hair distractedly and took a deep breath, obviously forcing himself to calm down. "Look, Styles, I don't think you understand the process here. The tests the Academy does are very specific. They don't just pair up two cadets because they happen to be available. The personality characteristics have to align exactly."

"So —what does that mean?" Harry asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It means I've been waiting for you for _months_." Tomlinson's voice was an irritated growl. "It means that after Sabi— after my old partner died, I never thought I'd find anyone again that I could feel —I mean anyone who matched me. I couldn't believe it when they told me they had someone to fly with me again."

"You didn't seem too happy about it at the time," Harry reminded him, remembering they way Tomlinson had refused to take him as a partner at first.

Tomlinson blew out a breath in frustration. "Because you're so completely different from what I expected. You're the complete opposite of Sa— of my last partner. He was quiet and shy and uncertain from the first. I had to teach him everything. And you... you're cocky and sure of yourself and I knew the first time I saw you shoot that you were the best gunner to come through the shithouse in a long time."

It was the first time Tomlinson had given him any kind of compliment and Harry didn't know if he should be flattered or suspicious. "If I'm so good, how come you told me I wasn't fit to lick Sabi— your old partner's boots then?" he asked, catching himself just in time.

"Because I still miss him." Tomlinson's eyes were suddenly bleak. "It's been six months since he died but I can't forget him, no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try."

"Hey, man, I'm sorry." Harry felt suddenly abashed. He'd never seen Tomlinson without his shield of sarcasm and the naked pain in the older cadet's face touched something inside him. But as quickly as Tomlinson let it show, it was gone again.

"It doesn't matter now, Newbie. It's ancient history. Come on, let's get you down to the infirmary and hope they can fix whatever you did to your hand." He jerked his head in the direction of the exit and turned to go without watching to see if Harry would follow.

 

Bemused, Harry trailed after him. But he couldn't help wondering what exactly had happened to Tomlinson's old partner and if the other cadet would ever trust him enough to tell him.


	11. Chapter 10

"Come on, Styles, concentrate." Tomlinson's breath in his ear caused an involuntary shiver to run through Harry's body and he missed another target. "You can do better than this, _I know you can,_ " Tomlinson insisted.

 

Harry knew he was sucking hard but he couldn't seem to help it. It had been several days since their confrontation in the Needlers' shooting range and the tension inside him was reaching a fever pitch. Part of it had to do with the fact that every time Tomlinson walked in the door to their quarters, Harry had to kiss him. Well, not _had to_ exactly —Harry knew that his partner wouldn't force the issue if he decided not to practice the casual kissing that was part of the Needlers' weird subculture here at the Academy. But Tomlinson was right, he told himself. If he didn't get used to it he was seriously going to freak out the next time they went to the lounge. So every time Tomlinson came in the door, Harry kissed him and accepted a kiss in return.

He didn't like to admit to himself how long these kisses lasted or how very non-casual they had become. Several times he'd wound up lying on the bed with Tomlinson on top of him, kissing him senseless, his cock grinding into Harry's belly as Harry's hard shaft rubbed against his thigh. But just when he felt there ought to be more, the older cadet always pulled away with some sarcastic remark. It was maddening, especially since Harry still had no time to himself to relieve his growing need.

But it wasn't only the tension that was getting to him during simulator practice with Tomlinson. It also had to do with the fact that his partner had recently decided to move their practice sessions to the Needlers' shooting range. Half the time they were up there the cadets on either side of them were fucking as they practiced —a fact that Harry found very distracting.

Trying to focus his energy on hitting the targets instead of listening to what Landrews and Sanderson were doing to their left, Harry concentrated on the next group of targets the simulator threw his way. The JP sticks jumped in his hands as three of the five were destroyed. The other two got away.

 

"Either one of those could have killed us." Tomlinson's voice in his ear was flat, not accusing, just stating a fact. "What's wrong, Styles —is your hand still bothering you?"

"No, feels fine." Harry flexed the hand in question, grateful once again for the bone growth stimulator the med tech had put in. The fracture he'd gotten of his fifth metacarpal —a boxer's fracture the tech had called it— had been healed in a matter of hours by the advanced technology. Of course now Tomlinson was even more careful while massaging his hands at night but Harry didn't mind that. In fact, he minded a lot of things less than he had when he first came to the Academy, which made him worried if he thought too much about it. So he tried hard not to think about it.

 

He shot at another cluster of targets and got five out of six.

 

"Better." Tomlinson sounded thoughtful. "But still not good enough to keep us alive, let alone number one. I thought you wanted that top spot, Green Eyes."

"Damn it, _I'm trying!_ " Harry muttered, his eyes tracking inside the smart-metal mask. "But it's kind of hard when I can hear... _that_ going on all the damn time I'm trying to shoot." Off to his left he could hear the continuous panting and moaning.

" _Oh God,_ baby —fuck me! Use me hard!" the amber-eyed cadet was gasping.

"What, you mean Landrews and Sanderson fucking? Get used to it," Tomlinson said contemptuously.

"Well I don't see why we can't practice on the simulator down in the main shooting range," Harry complained as Sanderson's deep voice urging Landrews to come ruined his concentration yet again.

"Because that range is used by the unwashed masses," Tomlinson said disdainfully. "And because if we were there, I couldn't do this."

 

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he felt Tomlinson unzip his tight black uniform and run both his hands over Harry's bare chest.

 

" _What_... what are you doing?" he said, trying to keep his voice level and failing. In a way it felt like his first day all over again.

"Touching you." Tomlinson's voice was casual. "You know how things are going to be once we're in the Needle. You need to get used to my hands on your bare skin while you shoot."

"I _am_ used to your hands." Harry blushed to say it but it was true. "You wash my back every night in the shower," he continued in a low voice.

"Yes, but I'll be touching more than your back while we fly together." Tomlinson's hands continued to roam over his chest, pausing to pluck lightly at Harry's nipples, making him squirm. His cock was already rock-hard and had been from the minute he strapped on the simulator and Tomlinson had taken his place behind him. Now it seemed in danger of bursting right through the fabric of his uniform. But despite the distraction, or maybe because of it, Tomlinson's words finally sank in.

"What do you mean you'll be touching more than my back?" Harry made himself ask although he was so wound up he could barely get the words out.

Tomlinson sighed in his ear. "You know, if I were you I would have spent more time studying the Needle specs so I'd know what the hell I was doing."

Harry was stung. "I _do_ study the specs," he protested, still firing at targets on remote control as they spoke. "I know the gunner's specs forward and backward. I could recite them in my sleep."

"Not your specs, _mine_ ," Tomlinson emphasized, tweaking his nipples impatiently and making Harry yelp. "Do you have any idea how I fly the ship while you're shooting or don't you care?"

"Of course I care. I just figured, I don't know —that it was your deal." Harry gritted his teeth, trying to concentrate on the next batch of targets as his partner's clever fingers stroked downward, entering the dangerous territory around his bellybutton. "Don't you have controls you use —same as me?" he made himself ask.

"Actually, no." Tomlinson sounded bored but his cock was hard and hot against the back of Harry's thigh, making him wonder how much of his partner's _laissez-faire_ 5 attitude was an act. "I'm connected to the ship's navigational chip via electrodes wired to my head. In essence, I fly it with my mind because all I have to do is think where I want to be and we go. But while I'm maneuvering, it's also my job to maintain the neural net connection between us. So I'll be touching you while we fly, keeping you connected —keeping _us_ connected."

"Touching me? Touching me where — _how_?" Harry heard the quiver in his voice but couldn't seem to help it.

"I'll touch you in whatever way it takes to heighten and strengthen the neural net connection between us." Tomlinson's voice was bland but one of his long-fingered hands was south of Harry's navel now, only inches from the slippery head of his cock. Harry didn't know if he wanted Tomlinson to touch him there or not but he was afraid to find out.

"Look, I know you're working on 'stripping away my boundaries' but there are some _I want_ to keep," he said, trying to keep his breathing even as Tomlinson stroked idly through the thatch of curls just below his bellybutton while still scrupulously avoiding his cock.

"Meaning?" Tomlinson's voice was still bored and unconcerned.

"Meaning I don't want to end up doing that. What Landrews and Sanderson are doing," Harry said, unable to name the act out loud.

"So you don't want me to fuck you? You don't want to spread for me and take my cock deep in your tight little ass? Don't want to feel me riding you until I fill you up with my cum? Is that what you're saying?" Tomlinson's fingers stroked lower, almost touching the base of Harry's cock as he spoke. Almost but not quite.

Harry blew out his breath in a wavering sigh, trying not to imagine the erotic picture the older cadet painted with his words. Those words would have meant nothing to him before he came to the Academy —would have done nothing but made him feel sick inside because he would be secretly intrigued by them when he knew he shouldn't be. But now the idea of his tall partner doing that to him, opening him, fucking him... it made Harry shiver and not with fear. "Yeah, Tomlinson," he said at last, his voice cracking. "I don't... don't want you to fuck me. That's what I'm saying."

"All right." Tomlinson's voice was a little colder but his hand continued its maddening exploration in the lower half of Harry's uniform. "I told you once I never break my promises so I'm going to make you one now, Green Eyes. I promise you here and now that I will not fuck you unless one of two things happens."

"What two things?" Harry asked, forgetting that he ought to protest again that he didn't want his tall, dark partner fucking him under any circumstances.

"One —that you ask me to do it. Or two —if our lives depend on it."

"First of all I am _never_ going to ask you," Harry said with more certainty than he felt. "And second, how could our lives possibly depend on it?"

"There's no faster way to strengthen the neural net connection than to be directly joined together," Tomlinson said matter-of-factly. "Why do you think Landrews and Sanderson keep leading the stats? They never get into a Needle or even go to the simulator without being joined. Without fucking. Of course," he continued thoughtfully, "it helps to have an emotional attachment as well. But in a pinch, just being connected physically will do."

"I-I still don't want it," Harry insisted. " _I just don't_."

"Suit yourself. I'd say your boundaries are coming down slowly but surely anyway," Tomlinson said, as though it didn't matter to him one way or another if they ever consummated their strange relationship. "Have you noticed that while we've been talking you haven't missed a single target?"

"Really?" Harry hadn't noticed, of course. He'd been busy talking, letting his hands do their job, but now he realized that Tomlinson was right.

"Careful, don't let knowing that you haven't screwed up make you screw up now," Tomlinson cautioned. "Keep talking while you fire." His voice dropped an octave into a more sensual range as he continued. "Did you know that there's a Needler tradition that if the gunner runs a perfect course, his pilot blows him?"

"He what?" Harry squeezed the JP sticks reflexively, firing in all directions at once.

"Blows him —the pilot gets on his knees and sucks his gunner's cock until he comes," Tomlinson said a touch sarcastically.

"I know what it means. I-I just don't believe it. You're making it up." But in the back of his mind he remembered hearing Harwood tell Webs the same thing —' _Finish the course with a perfect score and I'll give you a blowjob tonight you'll never forget, I swear.'_ Hadn't those been his exact words?

"I'm not. A pilot takes care of his gunner —always." Tomlinson's voice was so dead certain that Harry couldn't refute him.

"Well then, I don't believe you'd do it for me," he rephrased. "We've only known each other a few weeks and you don't even like me."

"Liking doesn't have anything to do with it," Tomlinson said, neither comfirming nor denying Harry's accusation, much to his disappointment. "It has to do with the pilot taking care of his gunner. You're my gunner so I'll take care of you any and every way I know how."

"Yeah, but that's taking it to extremes," Harry protested. As they spoke about what he was sure was a hypothetical situation, his hands continued to do their job, effortlessly shooting down every target that came his way.

"Are you challenging me?" Tomlinson's hands had moved back up to his bellybutton but now they crept lower again. The back of one brushed seemingly by accident against the sensitive head of Harry's cock, making him gasp. "You think I won't do it?"

"You won't even lick the head," Harry said scornfully, trying to sound like he didn't care. "You talk big but I bet you have as many boundaries as me when it comes to sucking another guy's dick."

"I won't even lick the head, huh? Hit the next five targets in a row and see." There was a smirk in Tomlinson's voice but something else as well —a heat that Harry hadn't heard before. He wanted to ask if Tomlinson had ever sucked Sabine's cock but he knew better than to mention the tall cadet's late partner by name. Then the next cluster of targets was hurtling toward him in the simulation window. _Ought to miss. Ought to do it on purpose —we're getting in too deep_. But as fast as the thought crossed his mind, his fingers were faster, working the JP sticks and firing blast after blast, exploding every single one.

"Very good, Green Eyes. See what you can do when you've got some motivation?"

 

The simulation stopped suddenly, making Harry blink as the smart mask disengaged from his face. But Tomlinson didn't pop the release that would free him from the simulator's sleeves. After working with the simulators for days Harry knew how to pop it himself but he didn't do it either.

 

"What are you doing?" he asked although he already knew the answer.

"Making good on a bet." Casually Tomlinson knelt in front of him on the hard metal floor and unzipped Harry's uniform the rest of the way. Harry had a moment of panic when his hard cock came into view, jutting from between the black fabric like a poorly concealed weapon.

" _Jesus_ , Tomlinson, _you don't really have to!_ "

Tomlinson shook his head. "I always keep my promises and I never welch6 on a bet." He took Harry's hard shaft in one hand and stroked it once from root to tip, making Harry moan despite himself. _Gonna come if he does that much more. Oh God, I can't —_ _can't come like this or he'll know. Know that I don't mind him touching me... that I almost even like it!_

"Look," he said in desperation as Tomlinson bent his head. "Don't you, uh, want me to keep shooting while you do this? So I can, uh, concentrate on the simulation no matter what's going on?"

Tomlinson paused, looking thoughtful with Harry's cock halfway to his mouth. "Not this first time, Green Eyes," he said at last. "This first time I want you to watch. Maybe you'll learn something."

"Learn what? What can I possibly learn by watching you lick the head of my cock?" Harry demanded.

Tomlinson gave him a Cheshire cat grin and shook his head. "Enough talk. Just watch. I'm at your service." He lowered his head and placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss on the throbbing head of Harry's shaft, making Harry gasp again. His partner's mouth on his aching flesh felt so good, so right he could barely breathe. Mesmerized, he watched as Tomlinson lapped up the beads of precum that had collected at the slit of his cock with his warm red tongue.

 

 _Can't believe he's actually doing this! Can't believe he's actually licking my cock!_ Harry thought and yet he couldn't take his eyes from the sight of Tomlinson on his knees in front of him. Harry knew that if he himself had been forced to suck another guy he would have done it as quickly as possible to get it over with. But Tomlinson was swirling his tongue around the head of Harry's cock in long, slow, leisurely strokes as if he had all day to do this. As if he really didn't mind it at all. As if he liked it.

 

"You taste good, Green Eyes," he said, stopping for a moment to look up at Harry with hooded eyes. "Satisfied that I'm as good as my word?" Arching his scarred eyebrow, he asked, "Want me to go on? Do you want to bet I won't put your entire cock in my mouth and suck it? Want to bet I won't swallow your cum?"

"I... I..." Harry was at a loss for words. The sight of the tall pilot on his knees and the feel of Tomlinson's mouth on the head of his cock was almost more than he could stand. Then Tomlinson's words sank into his numb brain. "You... you'd let me come in your mouth? But that's so—"

" _Gay_?" Tomlinson interrupted, still looking up at him. "Does it make me a faggot to suck you, Green Eyes? Does it make me queer to take care of my gunner, to try to strengthen the connection between us so when we finally get into a Needle we don't get blown out of the sky?"

"I...I never thought of it like that," Harry whispered. So that's what Tomlinson was doing —just trying to strengthen the neural net connection between them. Part of him was relieved that his partner had such a pragmatic reason for his erotic actions. But part of him was... what? _Disappointed?_ Upset that Tomlinson wasn't doing this out of any personal sense of connection or caring? But that was stupid. He didn't care what the older cadet thought of him, Harry told himself —not a bit.

"Of course you didn't think of that." Tomlinson locked eyes with Harry as he lapped slowly at another bead of precum that had formed on the head of Harry's cock. He seemed to enjoy the taste, or at least not mind it, Harry thought, staring into the ice blue depths of his partner's eyes. He himself would rather die than taste another guy's cum —wouldn't he? What if their positions were reversed? The unbidden image of himself on his knees in front of Tomlinson, sucking his partner's long, uncut cock, rose up behind his eyes and wouldn't go away again. _God, what was wrong with him?_

"Ah, at the service of your gunner I see. Is that hot little cock as tasty as it looks?" The high, irritating voice of Landrews broke the intense moment between them and Harry belatedly remembered that they weren't the only Needlers inthe shooting range. He suddenly felt incredibly nervous. Not only had he allowed Tomlinson to lick and suck the head of his cock — _they had done it in a public place where anyone could see!_

 

With a quick jerk he popped the release and freed himself from the simulator's sleeves. As soon as his arms were free he fumbled for his zipper, pushing his rapidly deflating cock behind the fabric of his uniform. In front of him Tomlinson rose gracefully, obviously completely unconcerned about having been seen performing such a demeaning sexual act on his partner.

 

"Styles' ratings are going sky high lately —I was about to give him a reward," he said calmly. "You might have to watch out for him yourself in a week or two, Landrews."

"Well, well —is that so?" The effeminate Needler with the shock of platinum hair had been leaning in for a greeting kiss but now he drew back, a look of spite in his strange amber eyes.

"Sure is." Harry had recovered himself enough to glare at Landrews, whom he still cordially hated.

Sanderson smiled and slapped Tomlinson on the back with one big meat hook of a hand and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Good to see you two getting along. Rumor had it you weren't matched very well."

"Rumor is greatly mistaken," Tomlinson said, returning Sanderson's peck. "We'll be top of the ratings before you two know it."

"Oh, I don't know about that, honey." Landrews smiled maliciously. "I don't think you're going to manage that as long as pretty boy here keeps you out of his pants. I've seen the two of you here more than once and you haven't been inside him once."

"You're _goddamn_ right he hasn't been in me —I don't take it up the ass like _you_ , Landrews." Harry glowered at him but the blond gunner only smiled sweetly.

"That's right, honey, I take it up the ass and love every second of it. And while I do, I blow everything out of the sky. Now that's skill —a skill you're never going to attain, my sweet little _latent_."

" _You son of a bitch_." Harry could feel his hatred of Landrews growing exponentially. Just one punch, that was all he wanted. Even the memory of his hurt hand couldn't stop him from wanting to cave that smug elfin face in. Tomlinson put a warning hand on his arm to stop him.

"Easy, Styles," he murmured under his breath.

"Landrews is right." Sanderson frowned at Harry as if delivering a lecture. "You need to stablish a good close connection in order to enhance your neural net. That's impossible if you don't let your pilot service you."

 

 _Service me?_ Harry stared at the big cadet, at a loss for words, but Tomlinson already had him by the arm and was pulling him away.

 

"Bye, sweetie. I hope we'll see you two lovebirds at the lounge soon," Landrews trilled after them. "And in the meantime, I won't hold my breath about those ratings."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laissez-faire, the policy of leaving things to take their own course, without interfering.  
> Welch, to avoid doing something you have promised to do.


	12. Chapter 11

"Come on, into the shower." Tomlinson was already stripping off the minute they got through the door of their quarters. Harry followed suit more slowly.

"Where's the fire?" he complained as he shed his uniform. "I have to study for my History of Flight exam tomorrow."

"It can wait. This can't."

"What, a shower?" He trailed Tomlinson into the fresher cubical. There was a hunger in the older cadet's eyes that made him nervous. _What if Tomlinson had decided to finish what he'd started at the shooting range?_ Just the memory of his partner down on his knees, taking Harry's cock in his mouth, was enough to make him hot and cold all over.

"Not just a shower." Tomlinson practically pushed him into the hot spray of water and followed him in.

 

After so many nights of showering together, he was almost used to it. Mainly because when Tomlinson washed him, as he insisted on doing, he was careful to keep a certain distance between them and only to touch nonsexual parts of Harry's anatomy —his back, his shoulders and arms, sometimes his chest. So Harry was more than a little surprised when Tomlinson wound long arms around his chest and pulled him close so that his entire backside was flush with his partner's front.

 

"Hey, what are you doing?" he protested weakly as warm, soapy hands began to roam over his chest. He could feel Tomlinson's cock throbbing against his naked ass, which concerned him —but not enough, apparently, to keep his own shaft from reacting to the erotic situation. Once again it was hard and ready, almost brushing his belly with its straining eagerness.

"I'm doing what I should have done from the first," Tomlinson answered, his voice a low growl in Harry's ear. "I'm giving you some stress relief." He reached down and encircled Harry's cock with one soapy hand.

"Wait —stop it!" Harry groaned. "Look, just because we had that stupid bet in the shooting range doesn't mean I want you to—"

"Doesn't matter what you want, Green Eyes." Tomlinson's tone was stern even as he stroked slowly from root to tip and back again, making Harry gasp with pleasure. "I saw the way you went for Landrews back there —probably the same way you went for Burns in the mess hall the other day. You're too damn tense and you need a release."

"Of course I'm tense," Harry exploded, still standing rigid in his partner's embrace. "You're constantly with me, touching me, whispering in my ear, but I never get a chance to go off by myself and... and take care of business." It was the first time he had admitted out loud that being so close to the other man aroused him but he was too distracted by the warm, soapy hand encircling his cock to think about it.

"Which is why we're taking care of it now." Tomlinson continued to stroke, reaching down with his other hand to cup the tender sac below Harry's shaft.

" _God!_ " Harry gasped as his partner's long, clever fingers explored his naked cock and balls. What Tomlinson was doing to him felt incredible and yet he knew he ought to stop it. "At least... at least let me do it myself," he protested weakly.

"No." There was no arguing with Tomlinson's tone. "You spend too much time beating your meat and it ruins your feel for the PJ sticks."

"That's bullshit —you don't really believe that, do you?" Harry demanded.

"It's the conventional wisdom, anyway." Tomlinson sounded like he might be smiling a little. "At any rate, it's the reason behind another tradition —a pilot always jerks off his gunner every night —or whenever he needs it. From the moment you enter the Needle program as a gunner, you don't touch your own dick except to take a piss until you graduate. And since you've been in the program almost two weeks, I'd say you're long overdue."

"You just want an excuse to touch me," Harry accused him with a gasp as Tomlinson stroked his shaft.

"You're still so damn certain I'm going to try to violate you, aren't you, Newbie?" Tomlinson's deep voice was bitter. "You think all I want to do is sink my cock deep in your sweet virgin ass." As he spoke he let his fingers slide around from Harry's front to his bare ass. With a sudden movement he pushed Harry forward, never losing his grip on Harry's shaft as he did.

 

Harry cried out at the sudden attack and lurched forward, barely catching himself with his hands against the cool, slick tiles of the shower stall. Before he knew it, Tomlinson had kicked his legs apart and was bending over him, still pumping his cock. Harry's entire body went into fight-or-fight mode as he felt two long, soapy fingers invade the cleft of his ass and begin circling his tender entrance.

 

" _Don't!_ " he gasped. "Tomlinson, _please!_ Dammit, you _promised._ "

"I just want you to know, if I wanted to, _I could,_ " Tomlinson murmured in Harry's ear. Slowly, he eased one finger into Harry's tight anus. Harry struggled against the violation but was helpless in his partner's iron grip. There was nothing he could do, he realized, but stand still and take it. And if Tomlinson decided to fuck him, he would have to take that too. Would have to take that thick, uncut cock deep in his ass and let Tomlinson ride him until he came.

" _You promised!_ " he gasped again, not knowing what else to say. How else to stop this. As good as it felt to have his tall partner stroking his cock, he really didn't want Tomlinson's shaft inside him —didn't want to be fucked. It was too much somehow—going too far into something he had never expected to get into at all.

"I did promise and I'm as good as my word." Tomlinson's voice was low and silky in his ear. "I won't fuck you tonight, Green Eyes. But you _are_ going to come for me. And I'm going to jerk you off every night from now on to keep that temper of yours under control. Understood?"

"I-I understand," Harry moaned as the soapy fist enclosing his cock completed another agonizinly slow stroke. "But if you're going to do it, can't you just get it over with? Come on, man, you're _killing_ me!" As always the feeling of being held and restrained was getting to him almost as much as the feel of Tomlinson's hand on his shaft. He wondered if this was the propensity that the Academy tests had somehow picked up on his pleasure at being held down and touched by another man. It was sick, something he had never suspected in himself until he'd left the Earth and his normal life behind. But there was no denying that having the older cadet's hands on him while Tomlinson forced him to hold still and take it was making him hotter than he had ever been in his life. " _Please!_ " he gasped again, trying not to think of what he was begging for.

"I'll make you come when I'm good and ready," Tomlinson growled low in his ear. "But first I want you to do something for me. I want you to close your eyes, let your head fall back against my chest and relax." He eased up on his grip a little, making it possible for Harry to push away from the tiled wall and do as he said.

 

Harry thought about pointing out the obvious —that it was nearly impossible to relax with Tomlinson touching him like this—but he knew it was useless. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to follow orders. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head on his partner's broad chest, just as he had the first day at the shooting range.

 

"Now listen to me while I stroke you," Tomlinson murmured in his ear. "I don't want you trying to think this away —don't try to imagine that I'm your little girlfriend back home while I do this."

"All right," Harry agreed in a gasp. To be honest, his girlfriend Amanda _had_ given him a few handjobs but they were nothing like this. To begin with her hands weren't large and warm and calloused like Tomlinson's and she wasn't able to grip his entire shaft at once. Not to mention the fact that she had never tried to put her fingers inside him while she did it. "Can you... can you at least take your finger away? Out of me?" he managed to ask, hating the pleasing tone in his voice but unable to help it.

"No, that's part of it." Tomlinson pumped his shaft slowly even as his finger thrust in and out of Harry's body. "I want you to relax and imagine me fucking you. Imagine this is my cock inside you right now, Green Eyes." He pressed hard and deep, brushing something sensitive deep inside Harry's body that made him stiffen and cry out.

" _God, what...?_ "

"That's your prostate. Feels nice, doesn't it?" Tomlinson did it again and Harry jerked in his arms, almost losing the battle not to come. "If I was inside you, if I had my cock buried deep in your ass and I was fucking you, I'd be rubbing you there over and over again with each stroke." He demonstrated with his finger as he continued to stroke Harry's cock.

"Tomlinson, please..."

"Please what, Newbie?" There was genuine anger in the older cadet's voice now. "Please let you come?"

" _Yes, goddammit!_ " Harry said between gritted teeth. He was close, so close he thought he would either die or the top of his head would blow off when he finally came. But with every stroke, Tomlinson held the base of his cock masterfully, squeezing in such a way as to hold off the orgasm Harry needed so damn badly.

"Go on then. I want to hear you say it," Tomlinson whispered in his ear. "Say, _'Please, make me come'_."

Harry had no dignity or pride left. He knew that later he'd probably be angry but for right now he was so sexually on edge that he couldn't think of anything else. Even though he knew he shouldn't react, he couldn't help himself. To his shame, he found he was leaning back against his tall partner, pumping into Tomlinson's hand with abandon, and grinding against the finger buried deep inside him, giving himself completely. "Please," he gasped. "Please, Tomlinson. Please make me come!"

"Come then," Tomlinson grated in his ear. And with a last firm stroke, he pressed the sensitive place deep in Harry's body again and pushed him over the edge.

"God, _ohgodohgod!_ " Harry heard himself moaning as the long-awaited orgasm finally overcame him. He felt himself letting go, fountaining over his partner's closed fist helplessly as he came like he had never come before. The sensation was so intense that for a moment the world went gray and he saw stars dance in front of his vision.

"No, it's just me." The annoying smirk was back in Tomlinson's voice but this time it seemed to be hiding something, masking some other emotion —what Harry couldn't guess.

Tomlinson straightened up and withdrew his finger from Harry's body at the same time he released his cock. "I want you to remember tonight," he murmured in Harry's ear. "The way it could have gone and didn't. I want you to remember I can fuck you any time I want to —but I won't because I keep my promises."

 

Harry was still panting, trying to catch his breath. He'd never had such an intense sexual experience in his life and his knees were literally weak in the aftermath. He knew he ought to be angry with Tomlinson for holding him down and touching him against his will but all he could summon at the moment was an exhausted bewilderment. He never knew what to expect from the older cadet who was his partner. One moment Tomlinson could be quiet and sensual —willing to go to his knees in front of Harry and take his cock into his mouth. And the next, he was hard and forceful, holding Harry down and finger-fucking him mercilessly while he stroked him to orgasm. What could possibly be next?

 

Tomlinson must have seen the uncertainty on Harry's face because his own features softened until even the scarred half of his face looked kind. "Come on, Styles," he murmured, helping Harry out of the shower. "You're all worn out. Let's go to bed." He took a towel and dried Harry completely and carefully, paying special attention to his cock and the area between his legs. Harry knew he should protest this treatment but he was too tired to protest for once. And at least Tomlinson was being kind again.

 

He let Tomlinson lead him into the bedroom and pull him into the narrow bed, tucking the navy blue coverlet over both of them. He didn't even complain when the older cadet drew him close, fitting Harry's back against his front so that Tomlinson's still-hard shaft pressed against his thighs. Every night since they had been sleeping in the same bed he had left a narrow strip of mattress between them and scrupulously avoided touching his partner. But now it felt too good, too comforting to have those strong, muscular arms wrapped around his waist and to feel Tomlinson's warm breath against the back of his neck. _Just for tonight_ , he thought sleepily. _I'll go back to the other way tomorrow. But just for tonight this feels good._

 

"Your hair is beginning to grow back," Tomlinson murmured in his ear as Harry started to drift off to sleep. "No curls yet but there will be soon. I like that, Green Eyes. Don't cut your hair again."

 

Harry opened his mouth to say that he would do whatever the hell he wanted with his hair but he was too tired and the words wouldn't come. Instead he closed his eyes and let himself drift off, lulled by the warm arms encircling him and the feel of Tomlinson's hard, naked boy at his back.


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is falling in love with Louis.

"Come on, let's go." Harry had barely entered the door to their quarters and already Tomlinson motioning for him to go out again.

"Where? I have an info-vid from home." Harry held up the small oblong one-use holo projector that had come in the mail. The Academy was notorious for taking its time getting mail from home to the cadets so he wasn't surprised that this was the first thing he'd gotten. He wasn't exactly homesick —so many strange things had happened to him since he'd left Earth that there wasn't time for it— but he was eager to see the familiar faces of his parents and friends.

"It can wait." Tomlinson was already out the door.

"Dammit. All right." Harry tossed his package on the bed and followed reluctantly as Tomlinson walked with long strides down the narrow metal corridor. They passed a few other cadets but most of them had turned in for the evening. It was only an hour until lights out and students at the Academy were strongly encouraged to be in their room studying at this time.

"Do you know what today is?" Tomlinson asked, not looking at him as he spoke.

"No. What?" Harry lengthened his own stride to catch up to his tall partner. "Well, what?" he asked again when Tomlinson didn't answer immediately.

The older cadet gave him a sidelong glance and a humorless grin. "It's our three-week anniversary. Do you know what that means?"

In the past Harry probably would have protested his partner's use of the relationship word "anniversary" but now he just frowned at Tomlinson. "No, should I? Is it some kind of special time period as far as Needlers are concerned?"

Tomlinson barked a laugh. "Hardly. What it means is that we only have one more week until we actually get our Needle. This time next week, we'll be in the deep dark."

"This time next week," Harry repeated, letting the thought sink in. Of course he knew the days were passing, but he was ashamed to admit that he had been thinking less about their ultimate goal than he should have been. Of course he had been slightly distracted by the confusing emotions his tall partner brought out in him during what had become their new routine.

 

 

After dinner they usually went up to the Needlers' shooting range for a couple of hours and practiced on the simulator. As always, Tomlinson murmured in his ear and pressed against him, but now he routinely unzipped Harry's uniform and ran long fingers down his chest and abdomen to stroke his cock. He never let Harry come —not during the practice anyway, but despite that, Harry found that a strange thing was happening. His partner's hands on his body, rather than detracting from his shots-fired to targets-hit ratio, actually improved it. He didn't know how it was possible but it was true. He never shot so well or hit so many targets as when Tomlinson's long fingers were caressing his aching shaft with that slow, almost casual stroke. Tomlinson would talk to him about targeting angles and the Needle's specs at such times, never mentioning what was going on below Harry's belt but never stopping the slow, delicious torture either. Harry's scores were rising steadily and in fact, twice in the past week he had run a perfect course.

 

"Very good , Green Eyes," Tomlinson had whispered in his ear. "Perfect, in fact. Do you want your reward?"

 

The first time he'd asked, the range had been full with Needle teams on either side of them practicing and Harry had refused. But the second time they'd had the range all to themselves and he had nodded, accepting his partner's offer with barely a thought. Tomlinson had fallen gracefully to his knees and pulled Harry's cock from his uniform.

 

"I'm at your service," he'd murmured, just as he had the first time he'd licked and sucked the head of Harry's cock. But this time he had gone all the way, taking Harry's shaft deep down his throat and sucking him expertly until Harry had moaned and begged to be allowed to come. Graciously, Tomlinson had allowed it, sucking and swallowing spurt after spurt as Harry came in his mouth.

 

Harry had watched, dumbfounded as the tall, proud cadet had swallowed him down until he was finished. He hadn't quite believed that Tomlinson had really been willing to perform such a service for him but it undeniably had been the most erotic experience in his entire life. He'd had blowjobs before —well, two or three of them, anyway. But they had been given by his girlfriend who had seemed to find the whole process mildly disgusting. Tomlinson had  sucked his cock like it was the most delicious thing he'd ever put in his mouth and had swallowed his cum as though it were a fine vintage he couldn't get enough of. Afterward he had risen gracefully and kissed Harry long and hard, sharing the salty flavor of his cum with him.

 

"Delicious," he'd murmured in Harry's ear, which was enough to make him rock-hard all over again.

 

That night after Tomlinson had jerked him off in the shower, as he did every night now, Harry had turned to him as they lay in bed and reached between Tomlinson's legs.

 

" _Whoa_ —what do you think you're doing, Styles?" Tomlinson had sounded mildly amused but his grip on Harry's wrist was iron, not allowing his hand to go any farther.

"I just thought..." Harry had felt himself getting red in the face and had been glad the room was dark so his partner couldn't see. "You're always, uh, taking care of me," he had said, trying to sound reasonable and confident. "But you never, uh, get any relief yourself. I just thought... well, I thought I could help you."

"No." Tomlinson voice had been gentle but firm as he moved Harry's hand away. "No, I don't want you doing that until you're ready, Green Eyes."

"I _am_ ready," Harry had protested but the thought had come to him — _Am I? Am I really ready to start touching other guys... like that?_ After all, it was one thing to let his partner jerk him off and go down on him from time to time. It was something else again to start returning the favor. The idea still freaked him out a little, although he couldn't deny that the thick, uncut shaft between Tomlinson's thighs held a growing fascination for him.

It was almost as if Tomlinson could read his mind. "You're _not_ ready," he'd repeated. "Not ready to touch me and _damn_ sure not ready to suck me."

"But you always, uh, help me out and I never help you... it's not fair."

"A lot of things in life aren't fair," Tomlinson had replied. "Get used to it." And with that he had tucked Harry against his body, spooning him as he did every night now, and they had drifted off to sleep. But Harry's last thought before sleep rolled over him was that even if Tomlinson didn't think he was ready, he still wanted to do... something, he wasn't sure what but _something_ with his partner soon.

 

In the light of day such thoughts made Harry _turn_ red from embarrassment. He didn't want to admit even to himself that he no longer hated Tomlinson's hands on his body, that in fact he looked forward to his partner's touch. And the fact that he was beginning to want to touch back... well, surely that was unnatural and wrong. But Harry couldn't seem to help it.

As for Tomlinson, he was less sarcastic and easier to be around lately, Harry had to admit. Maybe it was because they were actually becoming a team or maybe it was the fact that Harry's ratings were climbing steadily. Harry didn't fool himself that it could be anything else. After all, Tomlinson had told him that the only reason he wanted them to be close was so that they could succeed when they got into the Needle cockpit together. And the fact that Harry sometimes saw his partner watching him with hooded eyes, well, that didn't mean anything —did it? He didn't think so, anyway.

He was still working up the nerve to ask Tomlinson exactly what had happened to his later partner but every time he did, he lost it at the last moment. No matter how nice Tomlinson was being lately, he just couldn't forget the feel of his balls in that rough grip and the tall cadet promising to feed him his testicles for lunch if he so much as mentioned Sabine's name. But maybe someday he would have the nerve. Or maybe Tomlinson would trust him enough to open up... _yeah right,_ Harry thought. _He'll trust and respect me that much when pigs fly..._

 

 

"Come on, Styles. Stop dragging your ass." Tomlinson's amiable complaint interrupted Harry's train of thought and he realized he'd been lagging several feet behind his partner.

"Sorry, I'm coming," he said. "Where are we going anyw—" He broke off abruptly, suddenly recognizing the route they were taking. "Are we going back to the Needlers' lounge?" he asked, trying to keep the tension and dread out of his voice.

"We are. I thought it was time." Tomlinson never slowed his pace and to Harry's dismay, he saw they were almost to the doorway of the lounge.

"Tomlinson, wait." He tugged on his partner's arm and to his surprise, Tomlinson actually stopped in mid-stride and turned to face him.

"Well?" Tomlinson's scarred eyebrow went up. "We've been over this before, Styles. You made a serious enemy in Burns —you need the support of your rankmates." He smirked. "Besides, I'm looking forward to putting that bastard Landrews in his place. Your scores have been superb lately."

Harry nodded. "I know, I just..." He shook his head.

Tomlinson sighed. "Are you still upset about having to greet the other Needlers with a kiss? You shouldn't be —you've been doing fine with me." He stepped forward and cupped Harry's cheek in his palm. "More than fine, Green Eyes," he murmured, looking into Harry's eyes.

"I-I know I've been doing fine —but that's the point, I've only been doing fine with _you_." Harry hoped his partner would understand but Tomlinson just shook his head. Feeling as if his cheeks were on fire, Harry forced himself to explain further. "Look, Tomlinson," he said. "I know that none of these guys has a problem, uh, greeting each other, but I think that's because they all have, uh, the right _tendencies_ for it."

Tomlinson frowned and pulled his hand away. "Please don't start that again, Newbie. I've been kissing you, sucking you and jerking you off for days now. Don't tell me you have absolutely no _'tendencies'_ at all as you put it. Don't tell me you still think you're the one normal, completely heterosexual guy mistakenly thrown in with the faggot freaks in the Needle program."

"I never said anything like that!" Harry protested, blushing to the roots of his hair, although until very recently that had been his exact assessment of his situation. "I just mean... Damn it, Tomlinson, this is hard to say."

The tall, dark cadet looked a little less pissed off. "Just spit it out. And hurry, we need to get into the lounge and then back to our quarters before lights out if you want to watch your vid."

Harry sighed and looked down at his black boots. "I... what I meant to say was that _yes,_ I've been doing all those things... the things you mentioned. But with _you_. I mean, I think all those other guys, the other Needlers, they don't have a problem with doing any of that stuff with anybody —any other guy. But I _do_. I don't... don't want to do any of that, any of what we, uh, do with anyone else. _Just you_."

 

He risked looking up, wondering if Tomlinson was going to lambaste him with sarcasm. After all, he had just made a fairly damning statement, even if it was in a roundabout way. _Hell, might as well have come out and said I have a crush on him,_ Harry told himself angrily. _Not that I do_ — _that's stupid and childish not to mention that I don't feel that way about other guys. It's all just purely physical between us_ — _just to increase our connection._ But he couldn't quite think of another name for what he was beginning to feel for his tall partner. Nothing quite seemed to fit when it came to Tomlinson.

 

"I understand what you mean." Tomlinson's deep voice was quiet when he spoke at last. "I felt that way about Sabi —about my late partner. I never thought I could feel anything more than friendship for another man, not when I got here anyway. But being paired with him, well, it proved me wrong." His voice grew bitter. "The damn Academy tests don't lie. They know what's inside you better than you know yourself."

"I..." Harry shook his head, unsure how to answer that. He'd never imagined that Tomlinson had been in love with his last partner and yet that was certainly how it sounded. He wondered if the tall dark cadet with the scarred face could ever feel that way again or if all the love had been burned out of him by Sabine's untimely demise. The bright green stab of jealousy that accompained the thought surprised him. Why should he care if Tomlinson could ever love again? Or love another man, anyway. But there was still a question in the back of his brain, nagging at him.

"What about your fiancée —Tara?" he dredged the name from his memory, remembering that Tomlinson had said he was going to get married as soon as he graduated.

Tomlinson shook his head. "Tara isn't up here," he said, motioning to include the entire Academy. "And she isn't in here." He placed one hand over his heart. "My late partner was. But since he's gone, I might as well go ahead and make my family happy by marrying her." He sighed. "Come on, Styles. We need to get in there and at least make an appearance. Just kiss on the cheek if you can't stand the lips and try to make a good impression. I promise we'll be out of here in time for lights out. Twenty minutes tops. Okay?"

"All right." Harry nodded reluctantly but inside he could feel the burn as he contemplated his partner's last words. So he really was still pining for Sabine. And there couldn't be any place in his heart for anyone else. Anyone new. Could there? _Don't be stupid_ , he told himself. _As if you care_.

Tomlinson was already pushing open the door to the lounge and a familiar voice was saying, "Hey, welcome back. Never thought you'd darken this doorway again."

"Well, here we are," Tomlinson smiled, more a baring of teeth than an expression of joy. "Tomlinson and Styles, the team to beat."

"As long as you're not the team to beat off," the voice, which belonged to Webs, replied. There was a burst of laughter that carried them into the room and Harry was back in the Needlers' lounge.


	14. Chapter 13

Once again he found himself in the mixed-up room with graphs and flow charts on the metal walls and soft, deep blue carpeting and pastel air cushions on the floor. Trying to keep close to Tomlinson, Harry accepted a few greetings from the other Needlers with less difficulty than he had feared. The trick was, he found, if someone aimed a kiss at his mouth, he only had to turn his head at the last minute for it to land on his cheek. And although he couldn't bring himself to actually kiss back, he found that kissing the air beside a person's cheek seemed to be good enough. It was the way he'd seen his mother greet her women friends the entire time he was growing up and he'd never dreamed that the technique might come in handy for him personally. But now, as he air-kissed his way through the Needlers' lounge, he blessed his mum for all the boring garden parties and soirees7 she'd dragged him to over the years.

As they worked their way through the lounge, he found himself observing the other Needlers. Though it no longer freaked him out to see two men kissing or touching, it didn't do anything for him either. That feeling —that lack of reaction— relieved him greatly. _I'm not that way_ , he thought, following his tall partner through the crowd. _I don't have the urge to do anything with any of these guys. I only want to do it with him. With Tomlinson._ He didn't know if only wanting one man instead of many made him gay or latent or what but it made him feel better in a way he couldn't define. Maybe there wasn't anything wrong with him after all? Or maybe not as much as he had thought.

At last he found a spot beside Jimmy and Timmy Turnix, who were sharing a pale green air cushion with their arms thrown around each other as usual.

 

"Hey, Styles—" one began.

"Looks like your hair is starting to grow back."

"You gonna—"

"Get it cut again?"

"Uh, no. Don't think I am. My, uh, pilot likes it long." Harry stole a quick look at Tomlinson who was standing a few feet from him, talking to Webs and his partner Harwood to see if he had heard but the tall, dark cadet gave no indication one way or the other.

"Good think it—"

"Grows fast then."

"Looks better long," the twins said together.

"Well, uh, thanks." Harry smiled, liking them despite their weird method of communication.

"Your hand looks—"

"Better too." The twins pointed to his right hand at the same time and Harry nodded.

"Yeah. The med tech put a bone growth stimulator in it. Fixed it right up." He flexed his fingers and grinned. "Now as long as that son of a bitch Burns stays out of my way, I won't have to break it on his face again."

The twins' eyes widened. "Yeah, we heard he was who—"

"You punched," they said. "You oughta be careful, Styles. Don't you know—"

"Who his father is?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I heard about that. So his dad's on the Council. So what?"

"So Burns can do what he wants—"

"And get away with it." Their hazel eyes widened. "He's pulled a lot of shit, especially on us Needlers. But the administration—"

"Keeps ignoring it. They just sweep it—"

"Under the rug."

Harry frowned. "Well why doesn't someone complain? He can't be the only cadet with connections. Don't any of the Needlers have someone on the outside who can do something about him?"

 

The twins looked at each other, exchanging one of those inscrutable looks that obviously conveyed volumes and then looked back at Harry.

 

"Well, as a matter of fact—"

"Tomlinson's father wanted to have him prosecuted about a year ago because he—"

"Kept getting into it with Tomlinson and Sabine."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Tomlinson? _My_ Tomlinson? I mean, er..." _No, that didn't sound right at all._ He shook his head, to cover his confusion. "I mean, Tomlinson's father—?"

"Is on the Council too." The twins nodded solemnly, in unison. "And he wanted to—"

"Do something about Burns. But Tomlinson—"

"Wouldn't let him. He said it was his own—"

"Battle to fight."

"Really?" Harry felt a sudden surge of interest. He was about to ask more questions when a hand gripped his shoulder and a familiar voice murmured in his ear, "Well, so how's the conversation over here, Styles? My ears are burning."

"Yeah, we were talking about you." Hary looked up at him boldly. "You never told me your dad was on the Council."

Tomlinson frowned. "It never came up. We're not exactly close, dear old Dad and I. He's one of the few civilians who actually knows what goes on up here in the Needle program. You can imagine how thrilled he was when I was named as a pilot."

"Oh." Harry nodded to show he understood. His own dad owned a chain of hardware stores and was pretty conservative as well. Just the thought of his old man knowing what he was doing up here and who he was doing it with made Harry shift awkwardly on his air cushion. For the past three weeks he'd managed to push such thoughts to the back of his mind and it wasn't comfortable to bring them up now. He was certain he never could have allowed Tomlinson to break down his barriers if he didn't know that his family and friends were thousands of miles away, Earth-side. Maybe that had been one of the considerations when the Academy was built to orbit the moon instead of Earth. It wouldn't have surprised Harry a bit.

"Well if it isn't Little Lord Latent, back to see where the big boys play." A shrill, unpleasant voice interrupted his thoughts and Harry turned to see Landrews and Sanderson striding toward them. Sanderson was striding, anyway. Landrews was mincing daintily as though the floor was hot and he couldn't put his booted feet down in one place for too long.

"Easy, Styles." Tomlinson squeezed his shoulder lightly and spoke under his breath. "He's going to try to get a rise out of you. Don't let him."

"Whateve. I'm fine." Harry shrugged off Tomlinson's hand and got off the air cushion he'd been sitting on to stand beside him.

"Hello, _hello_." Landrews gave them a smug smile, his tawny eyes flashing. "Long time no see."

"We saw you just the other day at the shooting range, Chris," Tomlinson said blandly.

"Still, greetings _are_ in order. Now, I know better than to try to greet your sweet little gunner there. Seeing as how he's too good for the rest of us _faggots_." Landrews spoke loudly, obviously wanting to be the center of attention. To Harry's intense discomfort, he succeeded. Every Needler in the lounge was watching the show playing out in their corner.

"Landrews..." Tomlinson gave him a warning look but Landrews was on a roll, obviously enjoying the scene he was making.

"You, however, my dear, are fair game," he continued, suddenly descending on Tomlinson. Harry watched in irritation as the slender blond Needler pressed his entire body against Tomlinson's tall, muscular form and kissed him full on the mouth. But as the kiss continued with no end in sight, irritation turned into something else —some other emotion that burned in the pit of his stomach and made his hands clench into fists. Before he knew what he was doing, he had muscled in between the two men.

"That's enough. He's my partner, Landrews. Go make out with your own pilot if you're so damn horny." Pushing Landrews away, he stood protectively in front of Tomlinson, his chest heaving with anger.

"It's okay, Styles. I told you he would try to get a rise out of you. He's just being an asshole," Tomlinson murmured in his ear.

"Well, let him go be an asshole somewhere else," Harry said clearly. He didn't know why it upset him so much to see Tomlinson kissing someone else in a more than casual way but it damn well did. He was too worked up to analyze his actions, no matter how irrational they may be. He just knew he wanted to punch a hole through the blond Needler's smiling face but the solid form of Sanderson standing by Landrews side reminded him that it might not be such a good idea after all.

"Well, pardon me for trying to give your pilot some of the affection you so obviously deny him," Landrews said loudly, still preening for the crowd.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Harry said contemptuously. "I, uh, greet him —kiss him— all the time." He couldn't believe he was admitting to kissing another man right out loud but at least he knew that everyone else in the room, with the possible exception of Jimmy and Timmy Turnix, did the same thing.

"Oh, so you kiss him hello and goodbye? My, how very _kind_ of you." Landrews opened his amber eyes wide in mock surprise. "But what do you do other than that? Do you ever see to his needs? Do you service him on any kind of a regular basis?"

"Service him?" Harry frowned, not completely sure what Landrews meant by the word. He'd already made it clear to Landrews on a previous occasion that he and Tomlinson weren't having sex but the effeminate Needler seemed to mean the term in a different way.

"Do you touch him? Suck him? Give him any relief at all? I mean, we all know you think you're too good to let him _fuck_ you." Landrews grinned maliciously and Harry felt a cold fist of panic close around his throat as he realized that every eye in the room was on him. How many times had he been called a faggot by Neanderthals like Burns and his friends since he'd gotten to the Academy? And now Landrews was accusing him of being the opposite —of not being gay. Of not taking care of his partner. It startled him to realize that this accusation hurt worse than anything Burns had said to him. Maybe because it was true.

"I told you, I don't—"

"It's none of your business what Styles and I do or don't do," Tomlinson interrupted smoothly. "You tend to your partner and I'll tend to mine."

"But that's just it, Louis," Landrews purred. "He doesn't tend to you. I've seen you at his service in the shooting range but does he ever return the favor? I'm guessing not or you wouldn't be walking around with a hard-on all the time, poor baby. I bet you haven't come in weeks —not since you got that little latent as a partner in the first place."

" _Chris_ ," Tomlinson said warningly and even Sanderson put a hand on his partner's shoulder but Landrews plainly wasn't done yet.

"You can't have it both ways," he snarled at Harry, his tawny eyes flashing. "Either you're one of us or you're not. Either you take care of your partner or you don't. And letting _him_ service _you_ doesn't count. Let me tell you, honey, there are plenty of straight boys up here in the shithouse who would _love_ to let me jerk them off or blow them. Hell, most of them would jump at the chance to fuck me. But ask any one of them to reciprocate and my, oh my, wouldn't I have a fight on my hands. Because how _dare_ I suggest that any one of them would be gay enough to suck a cock or take it up the ass, as you so charmingly put it the other day."

"All right, Landrews, you've had your say." Tomlinson frowned. "Are you done?"

"Oh, I'm done talking, but I think actions speak louder than words. So I'd like to challenge your pretty little latent partner to a contest."

"Bring it on." Harry, who had been standing there fuming, stepped forward. He was sure he knew what would happen next. Landrews was going to challenge him to a shooting match on the similators. It was a match Harry felt more than ready for and he couldn't wait to wipe the floor with the platinum-haired gunner.

"Oh I'll bring it, honey, but I doubt you'll follow my lead." Landrews was laughing maliciously and Tomlinson tried to put a restraining hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Styles, _don't_ ," he said urgently but Harry was way past listening.

"You think I'm afraid of you?" He put as much scorn and contempt in his voice as he could. "Come on, Landrews, you're not such hot shit. Anything you can do, I can top it. So come on, let's go."

"Mmm, it's nice to see you so filled with the spirit of competition." Landrews was still smirking, like they were playing cards and he was holding all the aces. "Well then, let's get started."

"Fine." Harry started toward the door but to his surprise, Landrews didn't follow. He turned back, frowning. "Chickening out already, Landrews? Afraid I'll kick your ass on the simulators?"

Landrews widened his eyes dramatically. "Who said anything about the simulators, latent boy? I'm challenging you to a suck-off." He dropped to his knees in front of Sanderson and began unzipping his partner's tight black uniform. "First one to make their partner come _wins_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soiree, an evening party or gathering, typically in a private house, for conversation or music.


	15. Chapter 14

"A _what_?" Harry couldn't believe his ears or his eyes for that matter. Landrews was already on his knees with Sanderson's thick cock out in front of him. He was eyeing his partner's shaft with undisguised hunger and it was clear he was eager to get started.

"A suck off," he said clearly. "Even for a latent with your obviously limited brain power, I would think the meaning would be clear."

 

The other Needlers were gathering around him and looking at Harry, clearly wondering if he was going to back down. Harry was wondering it himself. He couldn't believe how easily he'd fallen into Landrew's trap —all eyes were on him and he felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. The only person who didn't look excited at the prospect of the "suck-off" was Tomlinson. He wore a bland, unreadable expression on his face but he gripped Harry's shoulder hard.

 

"Styles —Harry, listen to me," he murmured, surprising Harry by using his first name. Had he ever done that before? Harry didn't think so. " _Listen to me_ ," Tomlinson continued. "We're leaving now. You don't have to do this."

"No." Harry shook his head. "No, he's right, Tomlinson... Louis." He said his partner's name almost shyly, feeling it in his mouth for the first time. "I never... I never give back to you. Take care of you the way you take care of me."

"This isn't the time or place." Tomlinson's pale blue eyes flashed in his scarred face and he lowered his voice, speaking urgently. "I never meant for you to have to do this, Harry. I know how you feel about it. It's the same way I felt when I first came. I don't want you to have to unlock that side of yourself unless you're ready to. Unless you want to."

"But I do. I want to," Harry said. He was surprised to find that the words were true. He took a step closer to Tomlinson, holding those pale blue eyes with his own. "Can you honestly say you don't want me to? That you haven't imagined what it would be like if I took you in my mouth? If I sucked you?" Boldly he reached forward and cupped his partner's straining hardness in one hand, feeling the outline of Tomlinson's thick cock through his uniform.

"Harry, _don't._ " But his partner didn't move away. Instead he leaned in and gave Harry a long, lingering kiss on the mouth that sent a kaleidoscope of butterflies loose in Harry's stomach. "Not here. _Not like this,_ " he murmured. "Let's go back to our quarters and if you still want to—"

"No." Harry shook his head. "I have to, here and now. Before I lose my nerve. I do want to —I've wanted to for a long time now. I just... didn't know how to work up to it. Now I do." He sank to his knees in front of Tomlinson, still holding his partner's gaze. _There's no one else in the room but him_ , he told himself, deliberately shutting out the murmurs of the other cadets and Landrews' taunting voice asking him what he was waiting for.

"You don't have to," Tomlinson said again, caressing his hair gently as Harry unzipped his partner's uniform. "You don't have to prove anything to Landrews or anyone else."

"It's not about that," Harry murmured, pulling the zipper down slowly, still keeping his eyes locked with Tomlinson's. "It's not about proving anything. It's about showing you how... how I feel." Then he dropped his eyes, a blush suffusing his face with heat. He wasn't embarrassed about what he was about to do nearly as much as what he had revealed. He wondered if Tomlinson would think he was a fool. _Throwing myself at him like a stupid little schoolgirl_ , he thought, fumbling in the tight black uniform for his partner's thick, uncut cock. Already he could smell Tomlinson's leather and spice musk and it seemed to fill his head and make him even more confused. _He'll think I'm an idiot. We're only supposed to be doing this kind of thing to strengthen our connection. I never should have admitted it meant more than that to me. Never should have..._

"Harry." Tomlinson's long fingers under his chin forced him to look up. He was afraid of what he would see in those ice blue eyes but to his surprise Tomlinson was looking at him with a warmth he had never seen before. He didn't say anything else but he stroked Harry's cheek gently, a gesture that seemed to convey more emotion than Harry had seen from him the entire time he'd been partnered with the tall, brooding cadet.

" _I'm at your service_ ," he breathed, stroking the long, thick shaft in his hand and drawing an involuntary groan from his partner. "Finally at your service, Louis." Then he bent his head and lapped experimentally at the pearly beads of precum that had collected on the tip of Tomlinson's cock.

 

Tomlinson moaned again and ran one hand over Harry's short hair, gently urging him on. But Harry wasn't going to be rushed. He'd never done this before —had never imagined in his wildest dreams any scenario where he would want to suck another man's cock. And yet there was something about the tall, scarred man who was his partner, Harry admitted to himself. Something about Tomlinson that callled to him, made him feel as he had never felt for anyone before. So he wanted to make this experience special, to savor it. Nothing and no one existed for him at that moment but the man in front of him, the man who he... _loved?_ Harry wasn't sure about that but he was sure about wanting to do this, wanting to give back to the man who touched him and stroked him and sucked him. The man who had given Harry so much without asking for anything in return.

He turned his attention to the thick shaft in his hand again, noting how dark it was, and how long, throbbing in his hand with need. He'd never wanted to look at a cock other than his own but now he memorized his partner's, tracing the blue vein on the underside first with his fingers and then with his tongue as the tall cadet moaned softly above him. Tomlinson's foreskin had drawn back, revealing the tender nugget of flesh that was the head of his cock and Harry sucked it into his mouth eagerly, just as Tomlinson had done for him that first time in the shooting range.

 _Delicious_ , he thought in surprise as the musky, salty flavor filled his mouth. It was as though the sight and taste and feel of Tomlinson's cock in his mouth had unlocked something in him that had been waiting to come out all along.

 

"God, Harry," Tomlinson groaned softly as Harry took as much as he could into his mouth at once. The thick shaft filled his mouth, rubbing against his tongue and bumping against the back of his throat, leaking drops of hot, salty precum. It was the strangest sensation but it felt good, felt right in a way that Harry couldn't define. It was as though he had been waiting for this to happen for years and now that it was finally here he couldn't get enough of it.

"Harry... babe..." Tomlinson's thick cock was sliding slowly between his lips. Harry had never sucked cock before but he understood instinctively what felt good so he held still and let his partner fuck his mouth. There was something about this —about the position he was in, submissive, on his knees, accepting the other man's hard shaft in his mouth— there was something about it that drove him crazy.

 

He realized with some surprise that he was hard as a rock himself, that he wasn't just enduring this ordeal as he would have before coming to the Academy and meeting Tomlinson. No, he was enjoying it. Getting off on it. He had an idea in the back of his head that it was wrong to be loving the taste and smell and feel of another man's cock in his mouth so much that his own shaft was about to burst out of his uniform. But he was so into the experience of servicing Tomlinson that he couldn't even take time to feel guilty. It just felt so good, so right, to let himself be in the moment and pleasure his partner that he couldn't think of anything but the push and pull of the heated velvety shaft between his lips and the bitter, salty, delicious flavor of Tomlinson's precum on his tongue.

 

"Harry... _God_... I can't... I'm going to..." There was a low, breathless note in Tomlinson's voice that Harry had never heard before and it pleased him greatly. He had thought his dark, brooding partner was so withdrawn, so inaccessible that it was almost impossible to get him to react. But here he was reacting, pushing his cock deep into Harry's mouth, fucking into him with both hands sliding over his short hair, moaning, almost begging for Harry to take him all the way. And Harry was more than happy to do it. His own cock was so hard he knew it was going to burst at any second, probably at the same time that Tomlinson shot his cum down the back of Harry's throat. And he didn't care —he welcomed the experience.

 

He nodded as well as he could with his mouth full and looked up to catch Tomlinson's piercing blue eyes, trying to convey what he was feeling. He must have  been successful because Tomlinson stroked his cheek and murmured an endearment before increasing the pace of his fucking. Harry was  incredibly hot and dimly aware that Landrews and Sanderson had finished some time ago, technically winning the contest. But none of that mattered now. What mattered was sucking Tomlinson until he came and swallowing every hot, delicious spurt of cum from the tip of that thick, uncut cock.

 

"God, Harry... coming!" Tomlinson suddenly gasped and the long fingers on Harry's head clenched as the first blast of hot cum bathed the back of his throat.

 

Harry swallowed eagerly, taking everything his partner had to give and begging for more. _Your service —I'm at your service_ , he thought and suddenly he had a vivid mental image of himself lying face down on the bed, his legs spread invitingly. He could almost see Tomlinson opening him with his big cock, placing the broad plum-shaped head at the tight entrance of Harry's body and driving slowly but surely into him. The mental image coupled with the delicious submission of being on his knees and the taste of Tomlinson's cum as he finished fucking Harry's mouth was too much. Harry could feel his own cock shooting too, fountaining jet after sticky jet inside his tight uniform as he lost it totally, giving everything he had to his partner, showing Tomlinson exactly how he felt.


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Louis' not the tallest nor strongest one in their relationship but the real Harry is more compatible with this Harry and so for Louis.

"Well, I guess he's not so latent after all."

"Yeah —Landrews is full of shit. I've never seen anybody who didn't want to do it suck cock like that."

"Tomlinson's one lucky son of a bitch."

 

It took a moment for what the other Needlers were murmuring to sink in but when it did, Harry felt his face heating up. Although he had managed to block everyone but Tomlinson out while the 'suck-off' was going on, now that it was over he was back in the here and now. And it only took a minute to realize that he was on his knees with another's man's shaft in his mouth. He could have handled that if he and Tomlinson had been alone but the fact that every Needler at the Academy had watched his cock-hungry performance... With his desire dissipated and his own shaft rapidly deflating inside his sticky uniform, it was suddenly too much.

Hastily he withdrew and stumbled to his feet, looking at the floor to avoid locking eyes with anyone who had witnessed his performance. Which was basically everyone in the room. _God, how could he have done this?_ It was so wrong and embarrassing...

 

"Harry?" Tomlinson's voice cut through the sudden attack of guilt and shame and Harry glanced up at him warily. What would his partner think of him now?

"Yeah?" he managed to ask, still trying to avoid looking anyone in the eye.

"You okay?" Tomlinson's deep voice was gently and the look in his scarred face was uncertain. "That was..." He shook his head. "It was incredible."

"I'm fine, really," Harry lied, avoiding the unwanted compliment. "Look, it's getting late and I really want to watch that vid my folks sent me. You mind if I go back to our quarters before it gets too late?" He was scared to death that Tomlinson would insist on coming with him when all he wanted was time alone to sort out the confusing feelings that were swamping him. But the older cadet just gave him a long, measuring look before nodding.

"Sure, go ahead. I need to talk to a few of the others before I go."

"Great." Harry couldn't leave fast enough. Even the feel of his partner's ice blue gaze on his back couldn't make him turn around though he knew that Tomlinson was waiting for something, something Harry didn't feel ready to give.

 

He raced down the corridors, avoiding the curious eyes of the few other cadets he passed. _They know. They know what I did_ , he couldn't help thinking even though he knew it was ridiculous. None of the other cadets had more than a vague idea of what went on in the Needlers' lounge. Still, the feeling of being watched, the feeling of shame when his lust had passed just wouldn't leave him. Maybe Tomlinson had been right, he thought, almost running when he hit the hallway that led to their quarters. Maybe Harry hadn't been ready to touch and stroke and suck him. At least not in such a public place. But he had always been good at following his instincts first and regretting the consequences later. It was probably part of what made him such a good gunner.

By the time he got to the doorway of their quarters, Harry's mind was a swirling mess of shame, guilt, desire and self-recrimination. All he wanted was to forget what he had done and what better way than by watching the vid from home? Quickly he placed the player on the battered plasti-wood dresser and hit the play button. Suddenly a hologram of his mother's face, her brown hair bobbed fashionably short, popped up in front of him.

 

"Oh Harold," she said, calling him by the name that only she and his father ever used. "Your father says we can't make a very long vid, shipping rates to the moon being what they are, but I just wanted to remind you that I love you. I love you no matter what happens or what you have to do, my sweet baby." She started to tear up and Harry could hear his father's voice in the background.

"For Pete's sake, Anne! Stop acting like they're turning the boy into some kind of cold-blooded killer. He's just getting a little discipline. It'll be good for him. Here, let me have the recorder."

His mother's visage vanished only to be replaced by his father's strong features framed by neatly clipped gray hair. "We heard from the Academy that you were chosen to be a Needler gunner," the senior Styles boomed. "And we know that roughly only one in a thousand recruits who go up there actually gets into the Needle program so good work. Just wanted to let you know that we're proud of you, son. Damn proud."

"Des, don't curse," his mother scolded in the background. "And save some room for Amanda. I promised her we'd leave her time to say hello to Harold too."

"All right then. Goodbye, son. Take care and keep your nose clean." His father winked out abruptly only to be replaced by the smiling face of his longtime girlfriend Amanda. Harry would have recognized her face with its big brown eyes, pert, freckled nose and long auburn hair anywhere. They had been dating for four years, after all. He waited for the surge of emotion he expected at seeing her pretty face and was surprised to feel nothing.

"Harry," she winked at him conspiratorially as though they shared a secret. "I don't have much time but I don't have much to say anyway. Just that I love you and I miss you. And if I offered to drop this vid by the post office myself so I could do something to remind you of me." She cut her eyes in either direction as though making sure she was alone and then raised her yellow flowered top, baring her breasts. It must have been cold wherever she was because Harry could see her rosy, ripe nipples standing up in stiff little points. She held the pose for a full ten seconds before flipping her top down again and giving him an impish, half embarrassed grin. "Don't forget me, okay?" She laughed, an attractive bubbly sound that always made anyone else who was near her laugh too. "Well, like you could. At least I don't have to worry about you running out on me since there aren't any girls up there. Right?" Se laughed again. "Well, I love you. Gotta run. I'm about to run out of ti—" The vid cut off abruptly, leaving Harry staring at the empty spot on top of the projector.

 

For a moment he just sat there stunned. Then the wash of emotions started again, only this time it felt like a tidal wave. His mother's voice echoed in his head, _I love you no matter what_. And his father — _we're proud of you, son. Damn proud_. How proud would they be if they knew the things Harry had been doing? And would his mother really love him no matter what? Even if she found that he'd been having a physical relationship with another man? But worst of all was Amanda saying that she didn't have to worry about him cheating on her since there were no girls at the Academy. What would she say if she knew what was happening? What would all of them say if they could see the way he'd dropped to his knees, so eager to suck Tomlinson's cock? Would any of them still love him, still care for him if they knew that he had actually enjoyed the act? That the act of making Tomlinson come had made him come as well?

That thought reminded Harry he was still wet and sticky under the tight-fitting black uniform. Tomlinson was going to be back at any minute and Harry knew he didn't want to take a shower with his partner tonight —he just couldn't deal with being physically close to the tall, scarred cadet after what had just happened between them.

Quickly he got up and stripped out of the uniform, shoving it into the laundry chute in the fresher cubical. Then he twisted the temperature gauge until the water was steaming hot and stepped under the scalding spray. But even the super hot water pounding on his head couldn't burn the shame-filled thoughts away. Harry leaned his head against the cool tiles and let everything pour out in a rush.

 

" _What am I doing?_ " he muttered to himself, unable to keep the words inside. "I haven't even been here a whole month and I'm already acting like a... like a _faggot_." The word tasted dirty in his mouth but he didn't know how else to put it. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to shut out the outside world so he nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice answered him.

"Is that such a terrible thing to be, Styles? Is it really the end of the world if you like boys instead of girls?"

 

Harry opened his eyes to see that Tomlinson had parted the shower curtain and was staring at him with the same bland expression on his scarred face —that look that seemed to hide something else.

 

"Leave me alone." He attempted to shut the curtain but Tomlinson wouldn't let him.

"I was raised the same way you know," he said, still staring at Harry. "Don't get too close to your friends, don't touch them and for God's sake, don't hug or kiss them. As for sucking cock, well, forget it. There was nothing worse you could call another guy than cocksucker. You didn't say that unless you wanted a fight on your hands."

"So? Why are you telling me this?" Harry demanded. "I'm trying to take a shower here."

"You're trying to wash off what happened tonight. But I have news for you, Green Eyes —that kind of thing doesn't wash off. And I'm telling you this because despite what I was taught, I came to terms with what I am and what I want. I thought for a while tonight that you were getting there too but I guess I was wrong."

Harry felt as if his head were going to explode. "You know, from the minute I got here and they paired us up, you've been all over me," he said, stabbing a finger at Tomlinson. "You talk about breaking down my boundaries and how we're only getting physical in order to strengthen our connection once we get in the Needle but I think it's all a crock of shit." He could hear his voice rising to a shout but he couldn't seem to do anything about it. "You just wanted to get close to me, to corrupt me the way you were corrupted. But I'm not like you, Tomlinson. I don't want the things you want — _I don't want to be this way!_ "

He expected the older cadet to shout back, but Tomlinson only shook his head, a tired look on his scarred face. "I knew you weren't ready," he murmured, reaching out to brush Harry's cheek, which was wet with tears as well as the water from the shower. "I knew I shouldn't have let you."

Harry jerked away from the gentle touch. "And another thing —stop fucking touching me all the time! _I'm sick to fucking death of it!_ Can't you ever just leave me alone?"

 

He expected Tomlinson to react to that, maybe even to join him in the shower and force him to accept his touch as he had the first night he'd jerked Harry off. To his shame and confusion, the memory made his cock rise between his legs and he knew a part of him was hoping that Tomlinson would get in the shower with him and force him to hold still while he stroked Harry off. _What's wrong with me?_ he asked himself. _Why do I want that? To be held down, touched, taken, forced. And by another guy. How did I get like this? And why did I ignore it for so long?_

 

"Fine." Tomlinson's voice tore at him, pulling him away from his shameful thoughts. Harry looked up to see anger and hurt written on Tomlinson's scarred face. But the telling expression was replaced almost at once by the bland, blank look that hid everything. "Fine, Newbie." Tomlinson's deep voice dangerously soft. "I won't touch you again until you ask me to. Why should I give a damn if we flame out the first time we go up into the deep dark together? My life isn't worth shit anyway. Not if—" he stopped abruptly, shaking his head.

"No if what?" Harry asked, wondering if Tomlinson was going to say something about his old partner, Sabine, being dead. But Tomlinson only shook his head again.

"Never mind. From now on, do what you want. Take showers by yourself, sleep on the floor if you want, practice by yourself on the simulators... _I don't give a damn_." He turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving Harry to feel, if possible, even worse than before.

 

He turned off the shower, noticing that his fair skin was now an angry red from the scalding water, and dried off. Keeping the towel around his waist, he made his way into the bedroom where Tomlinson was already in bed.

 

"Gonna sleep on the floor tonight, Styles?" he asked without opening his eyes. "Afraid I'll feed your hidden 'tendencies' if you get too close?"

Harry had been seriously considering sleeping on the floor but Tomlinson mocking words made that seem childish and immature. "No," he said stiffly, climbing into bed beside his partner and making sure to leave room between them. "I'm sleeping here. Just keep your goddamn hands and cock to yourself."

Tomlinson rolled over and looked at him, his blue eyes blazing. "You mean the cock you just sucked not an hour ago, Newbie?"

"You son of a bitch!" Harry had his hands balled into fists but Tomlinson was already on him. Before he could so much as take a swing, Harry was face down on the bed, pinned with his arms above his head, both wrists held in one of Tomlinson's long-fingered hands. But instead of sitting on him, this time his partner lay on top of him. Harry stiffened when he felt the hard club of Tomlinson's cock branding him and then settling into the groove of his ass.

"I thought you learned your lesson the first night." Tomlinson wasn't even breathing hard. His chest was like a hard wall against Harry's back and his cock was like an iron bar digging into the cleft between his ass cheeks.

"Let me up." He managed to make his voice steady even though his heart was pounding a hundred miles a minute. _Is he going to fuck me? Is he? Is he?_ The thought kept going around and around in his head and Harry was ashamed to find that he was almost as eager as he was frightened by the prospect. He could feel the rigid cock pressing against him and knew that Tomlinson only had to reposition a little bit and give one hard thrust to be inside his body. Would he do it? Did Harry _want_ him to do it? _No, God, no!_ Then why was his cock rock-hard and leaking precum against the sheets? Why was his breath coming short and his heart beating in every part of his body at the same time?

"This is what it's going to be like," Tomlinson hissed in his ear, grinding against him, thrusting his cock dangerously close to the tight opening of Harry's body. "When we get into the needle, this is what it's going to be like. Me on top of you, holding you, _mastering_ you. My cock against your ass, my hands all over your body. So you can avoid me for the next week if you want to, Newbie. Just remember you have this to look forward to at the end of it."

"Are... are you going to fuck me now?" Harry hated the note of eagerness he detected in his own voice but he couldn't seem to stop it. He didn't want to think of himself this way, as having these desires. But if Tomlinson took the decision out of his hands then any pleasure he felt in the act wouldn't be his fault. Not that he actually wanted his partner to do that, he told himself, _but if he did..._

But Tomlinson didn't. Instead he lowered his voice and whispered softly in Harry's ear. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd like me to ram my hard cock deep in your tight virgin ass. But you're scared to death of it —scared of wanting it."

"I-I don't want it." Harry could hear the lie in the voice and so, apparently, could Tomlinson.

" _Bullshit._ Don't forget, Newbie, I've been where you are. I know how it is to have feelings you don't want to admit to, not even to yourself. You feel sick inside, disgusted. But at the same time your cock won't turn off."

Hearing his own inner feelings described so accurately made Harry feel as if he had a fist-sized lump of ice in his belly. "No," he denied breathlessly. "You're wrong, Tomlinson. I don't want any part of this. Any part of _you_."

"Is that right?" Tomlinson slid a hand between Harry's body and the damp sheets to grasp his rigid shaft. "Is that why having me top you is making you so hard, Newbie? Is that why a few strokes would send you over the edge?" He pumped Harry's cock roughly from root to tip and Harry groaned, unable to deny the pleasure that rolled through him as Tomlinson's large, warm hand stroked him.

"Please..." he gasped and then was unable to continue.

"Let me tell you something," Tomlinson murmured in his ear. "I made you a promise. I promised that I wouldn't fuck you unless you begged me to or our lives depended on it. So I'm not going to fuck you tonight —no matter how much you want it. Because you can't ask for it. But that doesn't mean I won't make you come —come hard while you think about who is stroking you, and whose cock you sucked tonight." His hand continued to move, caressing with a gentle roughness that was bringing Harry dangerously close to the edge.

Panick took over his mind. Despite all the other times Tomlinson had made him come, he didn't want it to happen now. Because if it did, if Tomlinson's hand on his cock made him shoot, it was like a validation of everything the older cadet was saying. And Harry couldn't handle that. He opened his mouth, not sure what he was about to say but wanting to say something, anything, to get Tomlinson off him.

 

"Is that what you did to Sabine? Or did you actually hold him down and fuck him?"

 

The minute the words were out of his mouth, Harry knew he had gone too far. Way, _way_ too far. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable eruption from Tomlinson, waiting to be ripped apart by the bigger, stronger man. But instead of twisting off Harry's balls and force feeding them to him, Tomlinson grew suddenly quiet.

 

"You shouldn't talk about things you don't understand," he said, his voice tight. He abruptly let go of Harry and rolled off him. "I'm going to take a shower before lights out." He got out of bed, stalked to the fresher cubical and shut the door behind him with a muted bang. Then Harry heard the water begin to run again as he lay numbly on the bed, his erect cock still throbbing against the mattress.

 

 _God, what's wrong with me?_ He rolled over on his back, one arm over his eyes to hold back the hot tears that wanted to spill down the sides of his face. He felt raw inside, scraped and bleeding. A wounded thing which couldn't or wouldn't heal. And yet the feel of his partner's long, lean, muscular body holding him down, thrusting against him was still too much, too close, and he couldn't relax.

Eventually Harry gave up and took his shaft in one hand. He tried to think of Amanda and her round breasts and ripe nipples while he stroked himself but instead all he could see was himself down on his knees, taking Tomlinson's cock deep into his mouth, sucking and swallowing and loving every minute of it.


	17. Chapter 16

Harry spent the entire next week avoiding his partner. He ate dinner at a different table with some of the cadets in his Military History class and made sure to only use the simulator in the regular shooting range, avoiding the Needlers' range at all costs. He practiced alone and when he was done, he showered in the communal bathroom attached to the student gym. He came back to his quarters with his hair wet every night so if Tomlinson said something about taking a shower he could prove he'd already had one. But Tomlinson never mentioned his hair. In fact, his partner never said anything to him at all anymore other than brief, impersonal remarks asking Hary to pick up his towel or turn out the lights. He spoke to Harry as he might have spoken to a stranger whom he didn't care anything about. There was no more talk about Harry's standings in the ratings and he stopped massaging Harry's hands with the special cream at night. In fact, he didn't touch  Harry at all, not even when they slept in the same bed.

At first Harry told himself that he didn't care. This was what he'd wanted in the first place, wasn't it? To be left alone, for Tomlinson to stop touching him all the time.  And yet, even though he tried to convince himself that he was fine, he knew that he missed those large, warm hands on his body. He missed Tomlinson's strong arms wrapped around him at the simulator, missed hearing that deep voice in his ear as Tomlinson stroked him. He missed having his partner at his back, in the shower and in the bed.

Now when they went to sleep Tomlinson turned away from him instead of holding  him close in the spoon position Harry had become accustomed to. The covers never seemed to be long enough anymore and he wound up shivering in the chilly room, wishing he dared cross that lonely inch of space between them on the mattress to feel Tomlinson's warmth against his bare skin, but he couldn't. He even started having dreams —nightmares, really— that he couldn't remember when he woke up. He just knew that he woke in a cold sweat and with a hard-on so intense it refused to go down.

The second time it happened he thought he heard Tomlinson muttering something in his ear. But when he woke up fully, his partner was lying on his side, turned away and snoring lightly. So obviously Tomlinson's voice has been part of his dream. Harry had turned over himself and tried to put it out of his mind, only to have the same nightmare again, whatever it was, the minute he got back to sleep.

The sudden lack of physical contact felt as if he were going on a starvation diet after eating every night at an all-you-can-eat buffet. If someone would have told him that he would not only get used to having Tomlinson touch him all the time but would actually miss it when it stopped, Harry would have told them they were crazy. But now he found himself watching other Needlers out of the corner of his eye, noticing the casual way they patted and hugged each other and missing it, missing it so damn much... it wasn't like he loved the tall, scarred cadet who had been his partner for less than a month. Or anyway, not like he loved Amanda back home. Harry didn't admit, even to himself, that he hardly ever thought of her and that when he took himself in hand it wasn't her pretty, freckled face that came to mind. As much as he tried to avoid it, it was always Tomlinson's dark, scarred visage that popped into his mind's eye at the moment of orgasm, always his deep voice telling Harry to come that echoed in his memory.

It wasn't until the end of the week that Harry decided he had to do something —that he couldn't stand it anymore. He would apologize, he decided as he soaped up under the hot spray of water in the communal bathroom. He would tell Tomlinson that he had been out of line, that he shouldn't have dragged Sabine's name into it.

 _I was scared_ , he would admit to the older cadet. _I felt like we were getting in too deep. I don't know why I did what I did with you the other night in the Needlers' lounge, but I know I'm not like that. I don't like other men that way_. And then, before Tomlinson could get angry, he would quickly add, _But I understand that you and I have to be physically close in order to fly the Needle. So if we can just go back to the way we were..._ Then Tomlinson would agree and possibly say something about making up for lost time. He would push Harry down on the bed and unzip his uniform, taking his mouth in a slow, hot kiss while those large, knowing hands stroked Harry's cock until he came.

 _Or wait, I could tell him that I am sorry, so sorry I want to make it up to him,_ Harry thought eagerly. _I'll tell him that I'll do anything... anything but that. I'll tell him that I'll even suck him again if he wants me to._ Just the thought of being on his knees again in front of the taller, more dominant man was making Harry hot. He could almost taste the salty, bitter, delicious flavor of Tomlinson's cum, could almost smell his musk as his partner fucked deeply into his mouth...

Unconsciously his soapy hand went to his hardening shaft, stroking firmly in the same rhythm Tomlinson had always used on him. He was alone in the large square shower room, which had no stalls or dividers, just shower heads placed at three-foot intervals from each other along the tiled walls, so he wasn't afraid of anyone catching him beating off. He closed his eyes tightly and imagined that the hand caressing him was Tomlinson's, imagined that deep, quiet voice in his ear telling him that it was all right, that he should let go and come.

 

"Well, if it isn't the faggot who broke my nose. How ya doing', faggot? Is Tomlinson fucking you yet or are you still just sucking his cock?"

 

Harry turned, his erection suddenly deflating as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over it. His first thought was that someone somehow besides the other Needlers knew what he had done that night almost a week ago at the lounge. Then he saw who the speaker was and had a second thought —whether anyone other than the Needlers knew or not didn't matter because he was in deep shit.

It was Burns, of course. He and his group were gathered at the entrance of the shower room and even more alarmingly, they were fully dressed. It was as thought they had been waiting for Harry to be naked and vulnerable so that they had the advantage. _Like six against one isn't enough of an advantage as it is,_ Harry thought sickly. He started edging for the door but two of Burns' group were already there ahead of him, their boots echoing in the tiled room. With his exit cut off, there was nothing for Harry to do but stand his ground.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his thin towel and twisted it around his waist. He had to play this situation carefully or his blood was going to end up smeared all over the slick white tiles. His only chance was to call Burns out and get him to agree to fight one on one. Harry knew he could take him —he had done it before, after all. But if all six of them jumped him, well, he'd have a better chance of surviving the deep dark without a space suit.

 

"So you couldn't get enough and you're back for more, huh, Burns?" he said, trying to sound confident and unafraid. "You want me to break your nose again, maybe try to straighten it out? Because I think it looks  a little crooked. The med tech must not have done too good a job after I beat your face in the last time."

He expected Burns to go purple and offer to fight him but the other cadet did nothing of the kind. He just smiled at Harry, his china blue eyes bulging. "Keep talking, faggot," he said softly, moving toward Harry. "Just keep talking big like that and see where it gets you."

Harry was unnerved but still he stood his ground. "You afraid to face me by yourself, Burns?" he asked, lifting his chin. "Had to bring your boys with you to make sure you didn't get your ass handed to you again?"

Burns laughed, an ugly, gargling sound that turned Harry's stomach. "That kind of talk might work if I had come here to fight you, faggot," he sneered. "But that's not why I'm here."

 

Harry waited. He knew the older cadet wanted him to ask why he was there but he wasn't going to give Burns the satisfaction. Besides, he had a sinking feeling he was going to find out soon enough why Burns and his group were there and it wasn't for help with their Astrophysics homework. He wondered if there would be enough left of him to send back to his parents on Earth or if the Academy would just flush his remains out in space and cover up his death the way they had covered up Sabine's.

 

"You're wondering if you're gonna die tonight," Burns said, correctly interpreting the fear Harry was trying to keep off his face. "But don't worry, faggot. Like I told you, I'm not here to fight you. I'm not even here to kill you. I'm just gonna make you _wish_ you were dead. That's why I'm here."

"You lay a hand on me and I'll make you sorry. No matter what you try to do to me you're not going to do it without paying in blood." Harry heard the tremble in his own voice  but he refused to give in to the fear that was threatening to overcome him.

Burns smiled almost gently, a frightening expression on his blunt features. "Oh no, faggot, the only blood we're gonna see tonight is yours." He took another step forward and as he did so, two of the cadets in his group moved to flank Harry. "See, I heard from a friend of mine that you were spending lots of time away from your partner and those other faggot Needlers. I heard you were here every night all by your lonesome taking a shower and I just knew you had to be sad and lonely. So I came to keep you company and give you what you must be missing now that you and your boyfriend aren't joined at the hip anymore."

"Come a step closer and I'll rearrange your face, Burns." Harry forced the words out through a throat that was suddenly much too dry. He took a step back, his hands balled into fists and got ready to charge. The only thing he could do was go straight through them and hope to get out of the bathroom and into the corridor outside before they could catch him.

"I don't think so, Styles, I—" Burns began and then Harry surged forward. He meant to push Burns to one side and dodge around the other cadets in his dash for freedom but he didn't get two feet. In a sudden flurry of movement his arms were caught and held by Burns' friends, one on either side of him, freezing him in place for whatever Burns had in mind.

"Let go of me!" Harry raised his voice, hoping someone would hear, but there was no answering shout and no one put their head in the door to the shower room to see what the commotion was about. He was on his own.

"I'll let go of you —once I get what I came for," Burns snarled. Reaching forward, he snatched the limp white towel from around Harry's waist, leaving him naked in the steamy air. "Go on, faggot, ask me what I came for."

" _Fuck you._ " Harry stared Burns in the eyes, clenching his jaw. Now that he was being held he felt his fear melting away, giving way to rage. He struggled agains the hands that held him but there was no getting free. The two goons Burns had, holding him, both outweighed him by at least fifty pounds apiece. Still, he didn't intend to make this easy for Burns, whatever it was he planned.

"No, faggot." Burns gave him that same, frighteningly gentle smile. "No. Fuck  _you_. See, that's what I came here for —to give you just what you want, just what you've been missing."

"What are you talking about?" Harry felt cold all over but before he could say anything else, Burns had looped his own towel around his neck, twisting it tight like a noose.

"Put him up against the wall," he said, his voice hoarse with poorly suppressed excitement. "Let's see how he likes taking it up the ass from somebody besides his pretty partner."

"What the—?" was as  far as Harry got before he was pressed face first into the blank white tile, the noose tight around his neck.

"You're gonna love it, faggot." Burns' breath was hot against his neck and smelled like spoiled meat. "You're gonna beg for it. and when I'm done, I'll let the rest of them have a turn in you. We'll see how big you talk after you've had six cocks up your tight ass and you have a size ten asshole."

"Get off me," Harry managed to gasp although he could barely get any air with the towel twisted around his neck. "You sick fucking bastard, you won't get away with this. I don't care who your father is."

"Oh, so you're gonna tell on me? Is that it?" Burns sneered in his ear and Harry heard the ominous sound of a zipper coming down. "You're gonna go straight to the top of the Academy and tell General Werner how you got your asshole stretched by the big bad older classmen? And what else? You gonna send an info-vid down to Mommy and Daddy crying that you got fucked in the bathroom? You know what the fun part of that will be?" He laughed nastily in Harry's ear. "The fun part is going to be explaining to the folks at home how you've been taking it up the ass all this time, only just this once you didn't want it. And that's why you told."

 

He was plastered against Harry's bare back now, almost in the same position Tomlinson used to take when they were in the shower together. But Harry felt none of the desire, none of the anticipation he always felt when his partner touched him. He just felt sick. This was really going to happen and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He tried to clench his thighs shit but Burns kicked his legs apart, grinding his face into the cold white tile as he choked off his breath with the towel. The world began to turn gray and bright spots of light danced in front of Harry's eyes.

 _Maybe I'll pass out before he does it_ , he thought desperately. _Maybe I won't even feel it. Maybe I won't even wake up until they're done..._

 

"That's enough, Burns. Let him go." The cool voice from behind him seemed to freeze everything. Burns loosened his hold on the towel and Harry managed to turn his head. Behind Burns, arms crossed over his chest, was Tomlinson. He smiled coolly and gestured with one hand as though he were asking to cut in at a dance. "I said _let him go_. Or are you too stupid to understand orders?"

"Orders?" Burns looked at him stupidly, obviously uncertain about how to handle the interruption of his plans. 

"You heard me." Tomlinson tapped the badge on his uniform. "Needle pilot, remember? I outrank you and the rest of your sorry little group. So step down and leave my partner alone before I have all your asses sent to the brig."

Burns face turned an ugly purple. "You talk big but it's not gonna work this time, _Falcon_." Jerking his chin in the scarred Needler's direction, he yelled, "Get him!"

 

Two of his group moved hesitantly to obey but Tomlinson was much too quick for them. He sidestepped one and punched him neatly in the back of the neck. The cadet collapsed and Tomlinson caught him under the armpits. He shoved the dead weight of the limp form at the other cadet, forcing him to catch his friend, and then punched him in the face. Both of them went down on the hard tile floor in a heap less than ten seconds after they'd gone for him. Tomlinson smiled pleasantly and made a  'come on' gesture with one hand.

 

"Anyone else? Burns, you want to take time out of your busy schedule of gang rape for a quick round?"

"You idiots. If you all go for him at once he can't get away!" Burns nodded at his three remaining cohorts8, none of whom seemed very eager to follow his orders. The two holding Harry's arms dropped them and began to back away, not meeting Burns' furious glare.

"Who's trying to get away?" Tomlinson smiled pleasantly. "I just came to get my partner back. And so help me, Burns, if you've hurt him in any way, and you _know_ what I mean when I say that, you're going home in a box."

"You're just afraid I'll do to your new little cocksucker what I did to Sabine." Burns tightened his grip on the towel again, making Harry feel faint. He clawed at his neck, trying to get some air.

" _What_ did you say?" Even in his oxygen-deprived state, Harry could hear the quiet rage in his partner's voice. But Burns seemed oblivious to the danger.

"I _said_ , you're afraid I'll fuck him, like I did Sabine." Burns smirked and yanked on the towel, turning Harry around to face Tomlinson. "Go on, take him," he said, pushing him forward. Harry stumbled and would have fallen if Tomlinson hadn't caught him and set him carefully on his feet. But the scarred Needler's eyes never wavered from Burns' bulky form during the whole operation.

"Are you telling me that you... that you..." he shook his head, his blue eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at Burns.

"Oh, you mean your precious little Sabine didn't tell you?" Burns widened his eyes in mock surprise. "Well now, and I thought you Needler faggots told each other everything." He laughed. "Yeah, me and the boys caught him in here —I think it was just the week before he died. Isn't that right, Jenkins?" He turned to one of the cadets who was still standing and winked. The cadet shook his head, his face white with fear. Looking at Tomlinson's face, Harry wasn't surprised. Even the pain in his throat couldn't distract him from the sight in front of him.

 

Tomlinson's face was dark and the jagged white scar that ran down the right side of it looked like a bolt of lightning. His piercing blue eyes were narrowed into slits of rage and his hands were clenched into fists. Harry had never seen him look this way, as if the anger were consuming him from the inside out, almost making him vibrate with suppressed fury. As though someone had lit a dark fire inside him and he was glowing with rage. And still Burns couldn't see what danger he was in.

 

"Yeah, we fucked him —every last one of us," he taunted, zipping up his uniform in a leisurely way as though he had all day. "He was tight too —next best thing to pussy." He laughed again, the ugly gargling sound grating on Harry's nerves. "I remember how he cried and begged but then in the end, when my second turn rolled around, he was just really quiet. I think maybe by then he was really enjoying—"

 

That was as far as Burns got before Tomlinson launched himself at him. He took Burns down to the tile floor with an eerie, silent grace that reminded Harry of a panther pulling down a lumbering water buffalo. Without a word, he locked his long fingers around Burns' thick throat and began squeezing the life out of him.

 

"Tomlinson, no! No!" Harry staggered over to where Tomlinson had the other cadet pinned to the floor and pried at his fingers in vain. "Tomlinson, stop, _you'll kill him!_ " he yelled in his partner's ear but for all the effect he had he might as well have been whispering. Still naked and rubbing his throat with one hand, Harry looked around for help.

 

All the cadets in Burns' gang were long gone, even the ones Tomlinson had punched out had come to their senses and scuttled out of the tiled shower room. No help there —they were all cowards apparently. So it was up to Harry to keep his partner from killing Burns.

For a minute he considered letting Tomlinson do it. Burns certainly deserved it after what he'd tried to do to Harry and what he _had_ done to Sabine. But if he let things take their natural course, Tomlinson would probably be brought up on charges and almost certainly expelled. And the idea of being paired with anyone else at the  Academy was unthinkable. He wanted Tomlinson for a partner, Harry realized, and no one else.

But since his partner currently had his fingers locked around the throat of another cadet, he had to do something and do it fast. Burns' face had turned a dull purple and his eyes were bulging out of his head even more than they usually did. He was struggling less and less and the gurgling sounds he was making were definitely getting quieter. For his part, Tomlinson was still eerily quiet. He made no sound at all but the look on his face was one of intense concentration. It was as if his entire universe had narrowed down to one objective —killing Burns— and he wouldn't be satisfied until it was completed.

Harry thought about running to get one of the instructors but he knew by the time he got back Burns would most likely be dead. He tried again to pry Tomlinson's fingers away and shouted in his ear as well as his sore throat would allow but the tall, scarred cadet was absolutely impervious. What the hell was he going to do?

Scanning the bathroom desperately, Harry's eye suddenly fell on a wide red button covered by a clear plastic casing. It was an O2 alarm, designed to be set off if the space station sprung a leak and the atmosphere was compromised. _Perfect!_ Harry ran to the wall, yanked up the  plastic casing and hammered the red button with his fist. Immediately a loud, wailing alarm began to sound. The echoes that bounced off the tiled walls were deafening. He knew they would bring one of the teachers or someone in administration in a hurry to the source of the alarm. Having one of the instructors find Tomlinson with his fingers locked around Burns' throat wasn't a great option but it was better than letting Tomlinson kill him. Knowing he only had a minute or two at most, he went back to Tomlinson to try to stop him one more time.

To his intense relief, he saw that the loud, piercing sound had broken through the tall Needler's wall of concentration. Tomlinson was blinking as though coming out of a trance and Harry was finally able to loosen his long fingers from around Burns' neck. Tomlinson was murmuring something under his breath over and over. Harry leaned close to his partner and over the whooping bray of the alarm heard him saying, _"I didn't know. I didn't know. I didn't know..."_

 

"Hey, Tomlinson... Louis," he said, putting on hand on his partner's broad back. "It's okay, man. It'll be all right. Come on —we have to get out of here." He have Burns a quick once-over and saw that the other cadet was still breathing although he was passed out cold on the tile floor. "The administration is going to be here soon and we need to be long gone before they get here."

 

To his relief, Tomlinson stood and allowed himself to be led quietly away. Harry stopped to grab his uniform and struggle into it despite the fact that he was still wet and somewhat soapy and they got out into the corridor without anyone seeing them.

Once inside their quarters , he breathed a sigh of relief. And only a second after that the alarm cut off. They had gotten back not a moment too soon.

 

"Whew." Harry sat on the bed and ran a hand through his mostly dry hair. He would have to wash the soap out of it sometime, he supposed, but right now that was the last thing he should be worried about. His throat hurt and he was probably going to have a necklace of bruises where the towel had been twisted around it by tomorrow but the uniform's high collar should hide that. On the whole he felt very lucky to have gotten away so lightly. He took a deep breath. Yeah, he was shaky but okay.

"Thanks for coming to get me," he said to Tomlinson, who was sitting on the bed beside him with a vacant look in his ice blue eyes. "I don't know how you knew I was there but, man, that would have been bad." He swallowed, his injured throat protesting the motion with a stabbing pain. "When I think of the way I've been acting this week, and then you came to save me anyway, I just..." He trailed off when he realized that nothing he was saying seemed to register with his partner.

"Tomlinson? Tomlinson? Look, if you're worried about what Burns will say, don't be. He looked pretty out of it and I'm sure he and his boys will probably be too afraid to admit what happened because—"

Tomlinson looked up at him at last, his blue eyes dead. "You should have let me kill him," he said at last. "Or let him kill me. One of us ought to be dead right now." Then he got up silently and went into the fresher cubical. After a minute Harry heard the  water running but there was no other sound from Tomlinson. None at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cohort, a group of people banded together or treated as a group.


	18. Chapter 17

_One of us ought to be dead right now..._ Tomlinson's words haunted him. There had been something so lost in his expression —so broken. Was it because of what Burns had admitted to doing to Sabine? And why was Tomlinson taking so long in the shower?

Harry had been avoiding him so long that it seemed wrong to burst in and violate the other Needler's privacy. But as the sound of running water went on and on he began to get nervous. What was Tomlinson doing in there? Was he all right? _I'll just go in and talk to him_ , Harry told himself. _I need to apologize again anyway_ — _need to reestablish communication. We're supposed to be getting in a Needle together tomorrow._ At the moment he couldn't muster any of the excitement or dread he'd been feeling at the idea of being in an enclosed space with his partner. He just knew he wanted to talk to Tomlinson again, to tell him how sorry he was for acting the fool for the last week. _I want him_ , he thought, running a hand over his short hair. _I don't know if I want to do... everything. But I do want him, want to be with him the way we were before._ It was the first time he'd admitted his true desires to himself instead of just making excuses or trying to tell himself that he only wanted to be close to the other man for the sake of their neural net connection. Now he knew that he would have wanted Tomlinson's hands on his body, the pleasure of his touch even if they didn't have to fly a Needle together.

 _I want him. But will he still want me?_ There was only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath, Harry got up and pushed open the fresher cubical door.

 

"Tomlinson?" he asked, his voice still hoarse from the abuse he'd taken earlier. "Tomlinson, are you all right?" The air was filled with steam and it was hard to see. Coughing a little in the thick humidity, Harry walked forward and pushed open the shower curtain.

 

Tomlinson was standing naked in the shower but he didn't look up when Harry opened the curtain. He was staring  fixedly at something lying in the palm of his right hand. Something long and flat and silver that glinted dully in the pale artificial light. Taking a step further, Harry saw that it was an old-fashioned straight razor but he didn't think that Tomlinson was shaving with it.

 

"Hey," he said nervously. "That thing looks sharp. Why don't you put it down and come to bed?"

"This is how Sabine did it," Tomlinson said, more to himself than Harry. His deep voice was soft and introspective, filled with pain and shame and self-loathing.

"How he did what?" Harry wanted to keep the conversation going. He wanted to keep Tomlinson talking while he decided if it was safe to try to grab the deadly sharp razor out of his hand. Could he manage it without both of them getting cut to ribbons?

"What do you think?" Tomlinson looked up at him briefly and then back down to the razor lying in his palm. "He brought this from home, I think it was his grandfather's. He never really used it though. Not until he..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

"Tomlinson... Louis, please. Put it down. Come to bed." Keeping his eyes trained on his partner, Harry began stripping out of his uniform. He had an idea he was about to get wet for a second time that night.

"He felt the way you do. We both did at first. That it was wrong, disgusting and unnatural to be so close, to have to touch so intimately in order to fly a Needle. But that changed. Over time it changed," Tomlinson murmured.

"I... I don't feel that way anymore. I don't know if I ever did, deep down," Harry said softly.

Tomlinson looked at him briefly. "Had a change of heart did you, Styles?"

"I..." Harry swallowed hard. "I missed you," he said simply. "Please, Louis, I need to tell you I'm sorry. I need to _show_ you I'm sorry."

"Too late." Tomlinson shook his head and looked back at the razor. "It's all too late."

"It's not too late!" Harry took a step forward. " _You're_ not too late. You came right on time tonight —without you I would have been dead meat."

Tomlinson looked up at him again, his blue eyes blazing. "But I was too late for Sabine. Don't you understand? I didn't even know what Burns and his crew had done to him. He never told me. He just got very quiet, very withdrawn. And then one night he went into the shower without me and I heard the water running and running..." He shook his head, his eyes filled with an agony impossible to express.

"What happened?" Harry asked even though he already knew. He asked because he sensed that Tomlinson needed to say it. After six months of letting this pain fester he needed to get it out in the open.

"When I got to him, he'd already sliced one wrist." Tomlinson's voice was numb, wooden. "There was blood everywhere. So much blood." He swallowed convulsively. "I yelled at him and jumped in the shower, tried to pry the damn razor out of his hand and he went crazy. Started shouting that it was a judgment, a punishment. That he got what he deserved —that we both would. He did this." He pointed at the white scar that marred the right side of his face. "Barely missed my eye. All the time I was fighting with him, trying to take the razor, trying to grab his wrist and put some pressure on it, to stop the flow."

" _My God_." Harry shook his head, unable to express his sympathy. He could imagine the bloody scene all too well. He just hoped they weren't about to have a repeat of it right here and now.

Tomlinson shook his head. "I couldn't stop him. He got the blade up to his throat and..." He shook his head and looked down for a long time. "He was dead by the time I got help," he finally said in a voice so low Harry could barely hear him over the running water. "That's why I kept the scar. To remind me I was too late to save him."

"Tomlinson..." Harry wanted to go to him. Wanted to step into the running water and take the long, wicked-looking straight razor out of his hand but he was afraid to make any sudden moves. The tall, scarred cadet had a flat, dead look in his ice blue eyes that scared him. It was the look of someone who has given up hope.

"I should have known," Tomlinson murmured, obviously talking to himself again. "I should have stopped it. It was my fault."

"It wasn't your fault. What else could you have done? You almost lost an eye as it was," Harry pointed out, taking a careful step nearer.

"No." Tomlinson shook his head, his long brown hair was plastered to his skull by the hot water and his dark tan skin was turning a dull red from the heat. "No, it was me —my pride that got him killed. I wanted us to be first in the ratings so I urged him to do things he didn't want to do —not at first, anyway. And then, when Burns got to be a problem, my father wanted to intervene. But I wouldn't let him. I was too proud —told him that it was my battle to fight. That I could handle the little bastard by myself. I never dreamed that he'd go after my partner. Never dreamed..."

"That he'd do what he did," Harry finished for him. He felt sick at the thought of what Sabine had gone through, at what he had almost gone through himself tonight. He had thought that he'd gotten off lightly with the bruises around his neck but now he realized that he had bruises that couldn't be seen. The memory of what had nearly happened in the white tiled shower room was still with him, hovering over the horizon of his mind like a dark thundercloud ready to move in and spit jagged lightning and drenching rain at any moment. He'd almost been raped — _God!_ Burns had almost... He pushed the thought away abruptly. There was no time for self-pity, no time to lick his wounds. He had to be there for his partner —had to talk Tomlinson down and get him safely to bed.

"That he'd do what he did," Tomlinson echoed. "I should have let Sabine kill me," he said in a low voice. His fist closed suddenly over the sharp blade in a convulsive motion. Droplets of crimson began to patter down to the shower floor. "I should be dead right now."

" _Jesus! Tomlinson!_ " Harry jumped into the shower stall, moving faster than he would have believed possible. As the scalding water rained down on him, he grabbed his partner's wrist and knocked it sharply against the tile wall. Tomlinson gave a grunt of pain and his hand flew open, the deadly razor clattering to the floor, his blood a gaudy decoration along its bright silver blade.

 

In one motion Harry reached down, scooped up the razor, flipped it closed and tossed it into the laundry chute. For a moment he could hear it rattle and clank its way down the metal tube and then there was only the sound of the shower running and his own heavy breathing. The water against his back was scalding hot but Harry barely registered it. He was too concerned about his partner to worry about anything else.

 

"Let me see your hand." He grabbed Tomlinson's wrist again and  uncurled the long, well-shaped fingers, trying to see if there was any permanent damage. To his relief the cuts on the tall Needler's palm were shallow and while they were still oozing blood, Harry thought they would heal quickly if properly taken care of. "Okay, you're gonna be okay," he murmured. "We'll just bandage you up and—" He stopped abruptly and looked up from his examination to see that Tomlinson was staring at him with that same, empty expression in his eyes.

"Why did you stop me?" His deep voice was harsh, filled with pain.

 

Harry felt as if his heart were going to burst. Now that he was here, naked in the shower with his partner, close to Tomlinson, touching him, he realized that it was the only place he wanted to be. That it was the only place he'd wanted to be all week. There was so much to say, so much to apologize for that the words nearly choked him.

 

" _Why did you stop me?_ " Tomlinson said again, searching Harry's eyes with his own —looking for something. Needing something only Harry could give.

"For the same reason you tried to stop Sabine, I guess," he murmured. "Louis, I'm sorry. For everything." Tentatively he put his arms around his partner, uncertain as to how Tomlinson would respond. For a moment the tall Needler just stood there, unresponsive in his arms. And then he pulled Harry close and hugged him tight, pressing his long, hard body against Harry's. His broad shoulder shook as he struggled with some emotion too difficult to name.

 

Harry hugged him back without reservation, not caring that they were both naked and wet or that he could feel the other man's shaft against his thigh. This was where he belonged, he realized, in Tomlinson's arms. He still didn't feel ready to consummate their relationship but at least he knew that he wanted to be in the relationship —wanted to acknowledge that it was more than just a partnership of convenience. He wanted to let himself feel —to admit the emotions he had for the tall, scarred man in his arms without shame. He wanted to leave his boundaries behind, as much as he could, anyway, and just hold Tomlinson and be held by him. He wanted to love him and let himself be loved and if the rest of the world didn't like it, then the rest of the world could go fuck itself.

Of course there was no way to say all of that, so Harry didn't even try. Instead he turned off the water and got out of the shower. He dried himself and then, as Tomlinson had done for him so many nights, he toweled off his partner's lean, muscular body. For a moment he allowed himself to admire the masculine grace of his partner's form as he never had before, allowed his eyes to linger on the long, uncut cock that lay quiescent between his thighs. There was nothing soft about Tomlinson, except maybe his long brown hair. But Harry didn't care anymore. He didn't want soft and delicate and feminine anymore —didn't want Amanda back home. He wanted the feel of that hard chest pressed against his back, the sound of that deep voice in his ear. He wanted Tomlinson.

 

"Come on," he said softly, leading his partner to the bedroom. He bandaged Tomlinson's hurt hand and then tucked them both into bed. For a moment they lay there, arms loosely around each other and then Harry dared to draw his partner's head down and place a soft kiss on Tomlinson's narrow but sensual lips.

"Styles... Harry..." The deep voice was tentative as Tomlinson pulled gently away from the kiss. "Don't."

"Please." Harry felt his heart drumming in his chest. What if Tomlinson had changed his mind? What if he didn't feel the way he had or Harry thought he had, anyway, before this last bleak week had taken place?

"No." Tomlinson's voice was gentle but firm. "No, I don't want to do anything. Not tonight. I can't stand another week like this one. Not right now."

"There won't be any more weeks like this," Harry promised. "Damn it, Tomlinson, I said I'm sorry. Just... just let me touch you. I've missed you."

"Missed you too, Green Eyes." Tomlinson's voice was gruff but he pulled Harry close again and kissed him long and deeply on the mouth. Harry felt a warmth stirring inside him and his cock was suddenly rock-hard and throbbing against his partner's thigh.

"I missed your hands on me," he admitted breathlessly. "Missed the way you touch me."

"I'm afraid I'm in no shape to jerk you off tonight." Tomlinson motioned with his bandaged hand. "But I can do this." Pushing back the covers, he leaned over Harry and took his hard shaft in his unhurt hand. "I'm at your service," he whispered and then, with a long, slow, deliberate motion he took Harry's cock all the way into his mouth.

 

Harry moaned as the hot, wet warmth enveloped him completely. He closed his eyes and fisted his hands in the sheets —God, it felt so good, so right... But then the delicious sensation was suddenly gone.

 

"No, Harry." Tomlinson's voice was low but firm. "Open your eyes. I want you to watch while I do this. Watch while I suck you and swallow your cum. I need to know that you can handle this —that you're not going to freak out and put us both in exile again because of it. Because of what we're doing."

"All right." Harry nodded, understanding the truth of Tomlinson's request. His partner needed to be sure of him, needed to know that Harry wouldn't put him through another agonizing time of torture and denial as he had this last week. He opened his eyes and looked down, catching his breath at the erotic sight before him.

 

Tomlinson was leaning over him, Harry's hard shaft cupped loosely in his large hand. His long, damp brown hair hung down his broad shoulders and his lips were red and slightly damp from sucking Harry's cock. His eyes were dilated, the black of his pupils almost swallowing the ice blue of his irises as he met Harry's gaze and held it. He stroked once from root to tip, eliciting a soft moan from Harry's lips and then bent down and lapped gently at the head of Harry's cock, licking away the beads of precum with obvious pleasure.

 

"Please..." Harry's voice was breathless but he had to say this, had to let Tomlinson know how he felt, what he wanted. "Please, Tomlinson... Louis. Please, I want... I want to taste you too."

"Do you _really_?" Tomlinson gave him a measuring look from his piercing eyes. "Are you sure this time, Green Eyes?"

 

Harry nodded, swallowing hard.

 

"Then let me hear you say it. Tell me exactly what you want to do to me," Tomlinson demanded softly.

"I want..." Harry swallowed again. "I want to suck your cock," he said clearly and distinctly. He couldn't believe he was actually saying the words, saying them and meaning them, but they were absolutely true. "You were right before," he told Tomlinson. The older man looked at him questioningly and he hurried to explain. "You were right that I wasn't ready to do this... to suck your cock... in public. We should have done it first here, together. Alone. Just you and me. That's what this is about, anyway. Just you and me together..." _Forever,_ he finished in his head but wasn't able to say.

Tomlinson smiled and laid another soft, open-mouthed kiss on the head of Harry's cock that made him moan. "Then let's do it together, just you and me." He turned on his side, his mouth still inches from Harry's cock, and motioned for Harry to do the same.

 

Feeling suddenly shy, Harry did and was rewarded with the sight of his partner's hard, uncut thrusting up from between Tomlinson's thighs. He could feel the heat radiating from the rigid shaft and once again he could smell his partner's delicious musk. His mouth watered and his own cock hardened even further in Tomlinson's warm grip.

 

"Like this," Tomlinson instructed softly. Leaning forward, he sucked Harry's cock deep into his mouth again, making Harry gasp and buck against him. _God but that felt good!_ Then he remembered the hard shaft in front of him. Gripping it loosely in his fist, he leaned forward and lapped the head, tasting the salty, bitter flavor of his partner on his tongue before he inhaled the thick club of Tomlinson's sex deep into his mouth and sucked.


	19. Chapter 18

Harry didn't know how long they took, sucking, licking and exploring each other that night. He only knew it felt like coming home. And when he felt Tomlinson spurt between his lips, filling his mouth with cum, he drank it eagerly as he had the first time and allowed his partner's orgasm to trigger his own. He could feel Tomlinson swallowing him down, taking his shaft and his cum down his throat with obvious pleasure and stroking Harry's balls lightly to get more, to be sure he had gotten everything.

Afterward he held Tomlinson's softened shaft for a long time between his lips, still sucking gently, loving the feel of his partner in his mouth when he was soft and vulnerable. Tomlinson did the same for him, occasionally lapping his sac and taking each of Harry's balls carefully into his mouth for a long, loving suck until Harry trembled with pleasure so intense it was almost too much.

 

Finally he felt his partner shift and Tomlinson disentangled himself and moved up to the head of the bed to be with him again. "That was good," Tomlinson murmured, winding his arms around Harry's waist and pulling him close.

"More than good. _Amazing_." Harry came to him willingly and pressed a searching kiss to his lips, sharing his taste with the tall Needler. Tomlinson returned it eagerly, exploring Harry's mouth, giving him back his own flavor with his tongue. Finally he broke the kiss.

"How do you make me want you so much? Even after what happened tonight?" he murmured softly.

"I don't know. I just know I feel the same way," Harry told him quietly. The words _I love you_ hovered just on the tip of his tongue but wouldn't quite come out. They seemed too girly, somehow. Too trite. And on a deeper level, too damn frightening. He looked up at Tomlinson, wanting to say something, to let him know how he felt. "I... I've never felt this way about a guy before. Never wanted a guy," he confessed. "I, uh, didn't think I had it in me to want that."

Tomlinson laughed softly and ran a hand over Harry's short hair. "Don't worry, I felt the same way when I first came to the shithouse. I think a lot of us did." His eyes grew dark. "I didn't change my mind until they paired me with Sabine."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, knowing the words were inadequate. "So damn sorry, Louis."

"Don't be." Tomlinson shook his head, his long hair whispering against the pillow. "That's my past, my shit, and I'm the one who has to deal with it." His eyes hardened. "I still wish I'd killed that son of a bitch Burns."

"You almost did," Harry told him soberly. "One more minute and he would have been story." He placed a hand flat against Tomlinson's muscular chest. "You know why I couldn't let you, don't you? You would have been expelled and sent up on charges. I couldn't let that happen —couldn't let them try to put me with another partner when I didn't... didn't want anyone but you."

Tomlinson smiled. "I felt the same way when I first met you. That I could never find someone I could bond with the way I had with Sabine. That I could share everything with. I'm glad you proved me wrong."

"Louis..." Harry looked up at him, feeling as if there were a large lump stuck in his throat he couldn't quite swallow around. "There's something I need to tell you. Even though... even though we're together now, the way we were, I still don't... I still can't..."

"You're still afraid to let me fuck you —is that it?" There was sorrow in Tomlinson's blue eyes but patience as well. No anger.

 

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He didn't know why he was afraid to take the final step. Maybe it was a fear of the pain that was sure to be involved —Tomlinson was extremely long and thick and Harry knew it wouldn't be easy for him to fit his big shaft into Harry's virgin ass. Maybe it was something else, a deeper fear, that doing this, that taking that one final step would make him completely into something it was hard to think about. A faggot? Gay? No one word, rude or polite, seemed to fit exactly. After all, he reminded himself, he wasn't like Landrews who he was pretty sure would be happy to fuck anything with a cock. No, he only wanted Tomlinson. And if he couldn't have him, he was pretty sure he wouldn't go chasing after any of the other guys in the Academy. So why couldn't he take that final step? He didn't know —he just knew he didn't feel ready yet.

 

"Well, Green Eyes..." Tomlinson sighed and stroked his hand over Harry's short hair again. "I guess I can understand. My promise holds —I won't fuck you unless you ask me to or I have to."

"Right, because our lives depend on it. Whatever, man." Harry made a face but Tomlinson only shook his head, a serious look in his eyes.

"Wait until we get in the Needle tomorrow. You'll see what I mean. The first time that neural net closes over both of us, you'll understand." He sighed. "In the meantime, we need to get some sleep. Long day tomorrow."

"And a better day than today," Harry told him, turning around so that Tomlinson's hard, warm chest was at his back the way he was used to.

"I hope you're right," Tomlinson breathed in his ear, pulling him close. "I sure as hell hope you're right, Green Eyes."


	20. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The picture is how the docking bay can be.

 

 

"Did you hear about what—"

"Happened to Burns?"

 

Jimmy and Timmy Turnix looked at Harry expectantly and he felt as if a cool fist gripped his stomach. Still, he tried to look casual as he picked at his reconstituted lunch. There was something pink that looked like ham salad on his tray but it might just as easily have been cherry gelatin with marshmallows in it. The Academy was too far from Earth and shipping rates were too prohibitive to get much fresh food.

 

"Nope. What?" he said, looking around the noisy mess hall with what he hoped was convincing disinterest. This was the last conversation he wanted to be having today. After lunch he was supposed to be skipping his afternoon classes and meeting Tomlinson in the docking bay where the Needles were kept. They were going to be assigned a craft and he was going to fly for the first time. Or rather, Tomlinson would fly, he would be manning the guns. But they would be on their own in the deep dark and for the first time the targets he would be shooting at would be real. And they would be shooting back.

 

"He was taken back Earth-side in a—"

"Med-shuttle last night. Someone crushed—"

"His trachea." Jimmy and Timmy's identical hazel eyes were wide. Harry gave up trying to pretend interest in his lunch.

"Will he live? Do they know who did it?" he asked, through lips that were suddenly too dry. Surreptitiously he fingered his own hurt throat through the thin material of his uniform. He had bruises from where the towel had choked him the night before but his voice was only slightly hoarse.

The twins gave each other a look and shrugged at the same time. "Nobody knows who did it," they said at the same time.

"Or if they do—"

"The Administration isn't telling."

"But will he live?" Harry asked again, impatiently. He wasn't sure whether he wanted the answer to be yes or no, he only knew that he had to know the fate of his would-be rapist.

 

The twins shrugged again.

 

"They think he'll live. Even if he does, though—"

"He won't be coming back to the shithouse."

"What? Why not?" Harry pushed his tray aside and leaned across the table, searching the identical faces in front of him for answers. The twins were looking at each other again, obviously not wanting to say anything else. Finally the twin he was fairly sure was Timmy spoke up.

"When people heard he was gone, some of the underclassmen came forward," he said in a low voice. "They said that—"

"Burns and his gang had, uh, caught them in the showers and..." he trailed off but his twin didn't finish the sentence.

 

Harry felt sick. So it wasn't just Sabine and himself who had been the victims or intended victims of Burns and his crew. He wondered how long it had been going on. How many other cadets they had cornered and violated.

 

"So they were...?" he trailed off too but both of the twins nodded.

"Yeah. The whole bunch of them were expelled and—"

"Brought up on charges."

"Burns' father will probably get him off but—"

"The rest of them are going to do prison time."

"Wow." Harry shook his head, uncertain what to say. While he was still thinking, the chimes that signaled the end of third lunch sounded.

"Hey, isn't this the day—"

"You and Tomlinson get your Needle?" The twins looked at him expectantly. Harry felt a sudden blush rising on his cheeks but he just nodded.

"Yeah, it is. I'm supposed to meet him now, as a matter of fact."

"Good luck," the twins said together, giving him identical toothy grins.

"You'll do—"

"Great. Nothing—"

"To it."

"Yeah." Harry tried to smile. "Nothing to it if you've got an identical twin who can anticipate your ever word and move. It's a little harder for the rest of us."

"You'll be fine," they said together. Standing at the same time, they smiled at Harry and gathered their trays.

"Break a—"

"Leg, Styles." And then they were gone, leaving him to think about the afternoon ahead of him and his first flight in a Needle.

 

 

**...**

 

 

"This is the docking bay. There's a tube down the hall from our quarters that will get us here in under five seconds. It's supposed to be for emergencies only but all the Needlers use the tubes constantly to get here anytime." Tomlinson gestured at the cavernous space surrounding them. It was so huge it reminded Harry of an airplane hangar.

 

Looking down from the raised platform where they were standing, he could see row upon row of sleek silver spacecrafts —the Needles. Each one had a different design on the side that looked hand painted and Harry thought he could guess which one was theirs —the one with the brown and white falcon in flight, swooping down as if to catch its prey. He wondered if Sabine had done the painting or if Tomlinson had an artistic side he was hiding. But there was something else that his partner had said, something that drew his attention from the brightly decorated spacecrafts and back to the other Needler's face.

 

"Emergencies?" he asked softly, looking up at Tomlinson uncertainly. Their voices bounced and echoed when they talked so both of them were careful to speak in low tones.

 

His partner nodded and slapped one hand on the metal railing that ran the length of the platform overlooking the bay. "In case the Saudeber attack comes on our watch. Of course, the Fleet Needlers will be Earth's first line of defense but they're stationed on the far side of Mars so we may get there first."

Harry looked at him doubtfully. As much as he cared for the tall, scarred Needler, he still didn't hold Tomlinson's views on the inevitability of another attack by the Lobsters. It was supposedly why they were all at the Academy in the first place but everybody knew the shithouse was really just a one-way ticket into the upper echelons of the Fleet. Still, his relationship with Tomlinson was so newly healed that he didn't want to say anything to damage it again.

 

"So those are the Needles?" he aske instead, looking down at the long, pointed ships below. It was easy to see how they had gotten their name. Each ship looked like a long silver tube with a sharp point at one end and a hydrogen scoop for continuous fueling, which looked like the eye of a Needle, at the other.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Tomlinson's ice blue eyes softened. "Never thought I'd fly one again, you know. Never thought I'd find another gunner I could bond with." He put an arm around Harry and leaned down to give him a kiss.

Harry ducked. "Hey, we're in public here," he pointed out in a hiss.

Tomlinson frowned. "Don't worry, Green Eyes. This is Needler territory as much as the lounge or the shooting range. Nobody who works in this area would bat an eye if I bent you over the railing and fucked you. So it's safe to kiss."

"Still..." Harry looked around at the few workers in white jumpsuits who were moving busily in the vast space below. "It just feels... wrong," he said, shrugging helplessly as he looked up at his partner. He hoped Tomlinson wouldn't take it the wrong way, but after the way he had felt in the Needlers' lounge, he wasn't anxious to get into any public displays of affection, especially in front of people who weren't even Needlers themselves. "I mean, I just don't like doing it in public."

"Did it feel wrong to kiss your girlfriend in public when you were Earth-side?" Tomlinson gave him a penetrating look that made Harry squirm.

"No but that was different. That was..."

"Socially acceptable? Normal?" Tomlinson raised his scarred eyebrow.

"Yeah, okay?" Harry hunched his shoulders. "Look, I'm sorry. I can accept... what we do when it's just you and me or maybe some of the other Needlers. But it's kind of hard around anyone else." He frowned. "Besides, you can't act like you don't care who knows. You've got a fiancée back home waiting for you. You can't tell me she has any idea of what goes on up here."

"Sure she does." Tomlinson gave him a humorless smile. "Tara knows as much as my parents know, which is pretty much everything. She still wants to marry me for my social position." He shrugged. "It will be strictly a marriage of convenience —she'll stay Earth-side and attend parties and play hostess in the huge house my parents are building us and I'll be stationed with the Fleet on the far side of Mars."

"That's sick, man." Harry frowned at the stab of jealousy that went through him and he tried to cover it up. "Don't you care that your entire marriage is going to be a lie?" he demanded.

Tomlinson shrugged again. "At least my parents know what I am. What I do and who I do it with. Are you ever going to tell yours? Or your girlfriend?"

Harry shook his head. "Look, your parents might be sophisticated enough to deal with the fact that you like other guys but mine aren't. And as for Amanda, I don't know. I haven't decided what to do about her yet."

Tomlinson sighed. "All right, that's your shit to handle. But let me remind you of one thing, Green Eyes," he pulled Harry close again and looked down at him, his hawk-like features sharp with emotion. "I don't like 'other guys' as you put it. I like _you_. I want you and only you. I want to stroke you, suck you and violate you in every possible way." His voice was a low growl and the lust in his ice blue eyes was unmistakable.

 

Harry felt his face begin to heat in embarrassment. He wanted to look around and be sure none of the white-clad workers had heard his partner's words but at the same time he could feel his black uniform getting uncomfortably tight in the vicinity of his cock.

 

"Damn it, Tomlinson," he muttered. "It feels weird to hear you talk to me that way."

"What way?" Tomlinson still had that look in his eyes that made Harry shiver.

"I don't know..." He waved one hand in the air, trying to think of how to put it. "When you talk to me like... like I'm a girl you want to fuck. I'm a guy too, ya know. I'm just not used to..."

"You're not used to being topped," Tomlinson finished for him. "But you're getting used to it. What do you think I've been doing all this time when I stroked you during simulatior practice and finger-fucked you in the shower? Topping you, Harry. Getting you ready —ready to fly a Needle."

Harry felt his cheeks burning. " _God, do you have to say it so loud?_ " he muttered.

Tomlinson gave him a stony stare. "I'm not ashamed of anything we've done together or anything I've done to you in order to break down your boundaries. And you shouldn't be either because it's all for this." He gestured at the rows of gleaming silver Needles with one hand and looked at Harry. "In order to make it work, you're going to have to listen to orders and do what I say. Inside the Needle, the pilot outranks the gunner every time. And our lives may depend on how close we are and how quickly you follow my lead. Understand?"

"I understand." Harry nodded but there was a knot of tension building in his gut. He'd had the idea that their relationship would be one of equals once they got into the Needle together. It hadn't occurred to him that Tomlinson would still be his superior as they flew. He supposed it made sense in a way —someone had to make the final decisions. But still...

"Harry." Tomlinson lifted his chin with one finger, forcing Harry to look up at him. "I'm sorry if my bluntness bothers you. But tell the truth..." His eyes softened and his voice dropped intimately. "Do you really hate it when I hold you down, when I force you to hold still while I touch you?"

"No." Harry wanted to look away but Tomlinson wouldn't let him. "No," he whispered again through numb lips. "I-I guess I like it. But I shouldn't. Shouldn't want that —shouldn't be this way."

"Don't start that again," Tomlinson snapped, and then more softly, "Every man has it in him to be one or the other —a top or a bottom. The Academy's tests are very good at finding out which you are. Do you think they would have come down to recruit you, even with all your extraordinary skills, if they didn't know that deep down you like having someone in charge of you? Like having someone telling you what to do?"

"I don't know. I guess not," Harry whispered. It was a hard thing to acknowledge about himself —maybe harder than the fact that he wanted the tall, dark Needler who was holding him captive with his eyes in the first place. It seemed so wrong somehow. So unmanly.

Tomlinson was still studying his face as though he could read Harry's thoughts as they flickered through his eyes. "While we're back in the quarters together, we're equals," he told Harry, his voice soft but firm. "But when we're in the docking bay or the Needle, you'll do as I say with no questions asked. All right?"

 

Harry wondered if the manly thing to do, the right thing, would be to tell his partner to go to hell and stalk out of the bay. A part of him wanted to, a part that had been with him all of his life —his masculine pride, he supposed. But there was another part, a deeper, hidden part that didn't want to. It was the part that those damn Academy tests had picked up on, he supposed. It was the part that liked being held down, liked being told what to do. And that part was stronger —he knew because his cock was achingly hard even as he struggled with his emotions.

 

"Are we _clear_?" Tomlinson barked suddenly, forcing him to answer the question.

"Yes Sir!" Harry wanted to pull away from his partner's hand, which was still under his chin, but he couldn't somehow.

"Good." Tomlinson gave him a gentle smile and dropped his hand but there was steel in his blue eyes. Apparently he took the Needle chain of command very seriously. "Now kiss me," he said softly, still looking down at Harry. "Don't look around to see if anyone is watching either. Just do it."

 

Wanting to get it over with, Harry leaned up quickly and pressed a chaste peck to his partner's cheek. Tomlinson frowned.

 

"You know that wasn't what I meant, Styles. Put your arms around me and kiss me on the mouth." He gave Harry a hard look. "And if you keep screwing around, I'll make you drop to your knees and suck my cock. Right here and right now in front of everyone. Understood?"

 

Harry felt a surge of anger but it was all but drowned in the pure rush of lust that rolled over him. _God, why did this turn him on?_ It made him feel helpless, vulnerable, and yet he wanted it. And Tomlinson knew it.

 

"Well?" The other Needler frowned. "I'm waiting."

 

Feeling like his entire body must be brick-red from blushing, Harry leaned up again and slipped his arms around his partner's neck. Leaning close, he kissed Tomlinson, pressing his lips tentatively against the narrow, sensual mouth... offering himself.

Tomlinson wasn't long in taking the offer. He locked one hand at the back of Harry's neck and plundered his mouth ruthlessly. His tongue demanded entrance and once inside, he explored as though Harry was his own personal property to do with exactly as he wanted. Harry could feel Tomlinson's cock branding his belly and his own shaft was stiff and pulsing with need as the kiss went on and on and on. At last, when Harry was sure that every single worker in the docking bay must have seen their display, Tomlinson drew back, breaking the kiss.

 

"Come on," he growled, grabbing Harry's hand and leading him down the long metal plank. "Let's get you stripped and into the Needle. I can't wait to come all over that tight ass of yours."


	21. Chapter 20

Being in the Needle was nothing at all like Harry had imagined. For one thing, he'd somehow thought they would be sitting but they weren't —they were standing with nothing to sit on in the entire cockpit. Other than that, he had always pictured being naked in a small, dark space with Tomlinson plastered against his back in the claustrophobically tight cockpit. And at first that expectation was met. Then the smart metal of the Needle enclosed them both and the neural net took over, binding their two brains into one unit, and everything changed.

 

"Ready for launch," he heard his partner say in his ear. But he also felt the words in his own mouth and thought them in his brain at the same time. It wasn't a repetition of what Tomlinson had just said either —he literally thought and mouthed the words at the exact same time Tomlinson was saying them.

" _What the hell?_ " he murmured and knew that Tomlinson was thinking and saying the same thing at the same time.

"What did you expect?" Tomlinson asked as he piloted the Needle down the narrow launch tube that led to the airlock. Again Harry thought and said the same words at the same time.

"I don't know. Not this. It's weird —I can't stop saying and thinking what you're saying when you say it."

"It's the neural echo effect," Tomlinson explained as they waited for the airlock to cycle open. As promised, there was three-hundred-and-sixty-degree visibility now that they were inside the Needle, which gave Harry the strange impression of having eyes in the back of his head. Through the visual scope that had molded to his eyes the moment he got into the cockpit, he could see to the sides and the back of the outside of the Needle as well as he could see to the front. But since his new view was just of the sterile white launch tube in all directions, he could still concentrate on what his partner was saying.

"The what?" he asked, wishing he could see Tomlinson. But despite his visibility outside the Needle, his partner was invisible. Only the press of his naked body against Harry's back and the murmur of his low voice in Harry's ear remained.

Tomlinson sighed, his breath warm on the back of Harry's neck. "You know when you call someone and you have a bad connection, sometimes you get that annoying echo of your own voice a split second after you talk?"

Harry nodded and then, realizing Tomlinson couldn't see him, said, "Yeah, I've had that before."

"Well, that's the aural equivalent of what's happening here only instead of you hearing your voice and me hearing mine, we hear each other's echoing inside our heads. The neural echo is what you get when you don't have enough contact to make the neural linking complete."

"Don't have enough contact?" Harry asked incredulously. "We're bare-assed naked and plastered all over each other."

"And how do you feel about that?" Tomlinson murmured in his ear. "Does it bother you, Harry?"

 

Harry didn't even have to think about it. He knew that a month ago he would have been freaking out in this situation and he certainly would have be too upset to fly. Now it seemed natural and right to have the older cadet so close to him, invading his space. Because there was no personal space in the Needle, he realized. There was no space that he and Tomlinson didn't share.

 

"No," he whispered back. "No, I... I guess it feels good. Feels right."

"It can feel even better than this, Green Eyes," Tomlinson growled softly.

 

Harry gasped as he felt the familiar warmth of Tomlinson's large hands traveling over his naked body. Lightly, his partner flicked and pinched his nipples before one large hand trailed lower to stroke his aching cock.

 

"Better?" Tomlinson whispered and this time Harry didn't mouth the words with him although he still heard them in his mind as Tomlinson spoke.

"Yes," he murmured back, amazed at the difference having his partner's hands on him made. "Why... it seems like the echo isn't as bad now. Why is that?"

"I deepened the connection," Tomlinson explained, stroking his cock slowly, just as he had during simulator practice. "The more intimately I touch you, the better the connection, and the more effective we are as a team. Make sense?"

"I... I guess so," Harry moaned as the large, warm hand continued to stroke him. "How... how deep can the connection go?"

"At its deepest, we would be almost completely one mind," Tomlinson murmured. "Neither one of us would even have to open our mouths to speak —we would just hear what the other person was thinking. It's a kind of telepathy but it's not easy to achieve."

"How... how do you achieve it?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer. He felt Tomlinson shift against his back and suddenly the other Needler's long, uncut shaft was pressing against the groove of his ass.

"How do you think, Green Eyes?" Tomlinson whispered in his ear. "You'd have to let me in —let me in completely. If my cock was deep inside you, fucking you, then, and only then, would we have what Needlers call a perfect connection."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, well aware that there was no place for him to go to get away from his partner's advances. Not that he really wanted to, which was making him even more nervous than if he had. "Look, Tomlinson, I told you... I'm just not ready for that. I don't think I could handle it, okay?"

"All right." Tomlinson sounded resigned. "But at least let me deepen the connection this much. Spread your thighs a little."

"Why?" Harry demanded.

"Styles, what did I tell you about who's in command when we're aboard the Needle?" There was sudden steel in his partner's voice that Harry couldn't ignore.

"You are... Sir," he added belatedly.

"That's right, Styles. And that means my orders are to be obeyed, not questioned. Asking why I want you to do something could get us killed once this airlock cycles open and we're out in the deep dark."

"Yes sir," Harry murmured meekly. Biting his lower lip, he spread his thighs, feeling the smart metal all around him mold to his new position.

"Good," Tomlinson murmured in his ear. "That's good, Harry. Now hold still while I..." he trailed off but it didn't take Harry long to figure out what he meant. He felt the blunt probe of the head of Tomlinson's cock pressing against the entrance to his body and for a moment he thought that the other Needler was going to fuck him then and there. But then, almost reluctantly, he felt Tomlinson shift so that his hard shaft was lower. Harry moaned low in his throat as it settled right between his thighs, nudging the tender sac that held his balls every time Tomlinson made the slightest movement.

" _God_ ," Harry gasped softly as his partner stroked him again.

"Much better." Tomlinson's tone was soft but intense. "Much better although it's not as good as if I was buried to the hilt in your tight little ass, Green Eyes. Still, I think it's time to go outside and explore the deep dark. Together."

 

As he spoke, the airlock cycled open. It ocurred to Harry that Tomlinson was controlling the airlock as well as the Needle they were flying in. Was it up to the pilot to decide when the Needle he and his gunner were flying was ready to leave the space station? But before he could really consider it much, the airlock finished its slow spiraling motion and a round black disk of space was visible directly in front of them.

 

"Here we go," Tomlinson murmured. "Remember, the targets aren't going to be set on kill mode —not this time anyway— but they are armed and we could take damage to our ship if you aren't fast enough. So shoot like you mean it."

"Got it," Harry whispered back. He was glad of their increased connection now, glad to feel his partner's hans on his body and Tomlinson's cock between his thighs. He felt connected to the tall Needler behind him as he never had before —connected to him as he had never felt connected to anyone, for that matter. It was almost as though they were one person. Almost, but not quite.

 

Still, it was wonderful. Harry could feel his partner directing the Needle and when the first target appeared he squeezed off a round with the JP sticks, demolishing it without even thinking.

 

"Good work," Tomlinson murmured. "Behind us, Styles! Pay attention to every angle, not just the front."

 

Harry directed his attention to the back view of the needle and saw a small, star-like object streaking toward them in the blacknes of space. To their right was the bulk of the space station that housed the Academy and to the left was the huge dark curve of the lunar surface. He fired again, obliterating the target but not before it got off a shot. The bolt of energy zinged over their bow and would have hit the Needle broadside if Tomlinson hadn't dipped the bow out of the way just in time. His maneuvers were so skillful it felt to Harry as if they were dancing.

 

"Got to do better than that, Styles," Tomlinson murmured, stroking him again as he directed the Needle around the curve of the moon. "Doesn't do any good to shoot them out of the sky if you give them a chance to do the same thing."

"Got it," Harry answered and then he saw another target coming up on the left. He trained his sights on it, willing himself to fall into the zone, to be one with the Needle and his partner. _Get them all... every last one. Get them all!_ he thought, concentrating fiercely on seeing and shooting the targets before Tomlinson had to maneuver the Needle out of the way.

 

He felt light as a feather, completely supported by the smart metal with the JP sticks gripped loosely in his hands. Behind him, Tomlinson was a comforting presence, muscular and lean, touching and surrounding Harry's smaller body with his own. And all around them in the encompassing darkness of space were the tiny star-like targets that had to be hunted down and killed...

 

 

 

...

 

 

"That wasn't bad, Styles." Tomlinson's voice in his ear brought Harry back to reality. He realized that while he was still gripping the JP sticks in his hans, there were no more targets to be seen.

"We're done?" His voice sounded rusty in his own ears and he wondered abruptly how long they'd been flying. It might have been an hour or a whole day as far as he was concerned. Everything between the airlock cycling open and now seemed to be a big blur.

"We're done for now but we'll be practicing once a week in the Needle from now on. The rest of the time we'll be on the simulator."

"Why?" Harry protested. "Why can't we just fly the Needle every time?"

Tomlinson laughed softly in his ear. "It's addictive, isn't it? Unfortunately, it's also expensive. Between fuel to launch the Needle and the crew to cycle it up and break it down after every flight, it costs the taxpayers back home a cool two million credits for every little joy ride you and I take out here in the deep dark. So you can see why they limit us to once a week."

"I guess," Harry grumbled. He was already sorry that they had to go back. Being in the Needle with Tomlinson, untethered from the comforting bulk of the space station that housed the Academy was both frightening and exhilarating and he didn't want it to end.

"It doesn't have to end just yet, Green Eyes," Tomlinson murmured in his ear as though he had read Harry's mind. "You did really well today, especially for your first real flight."

"You think so?" Harry felt warm all over and was surprised at how much his partner's praise meant to him.

"Mm-hmm," Tomlinson whispered in his ear. "We took one or two hits but they were all just glancing blows —not enough to destroy us if the targets had been turned on kill mode. You need to remember that it will never be this easy again —it gets harder every time you come out. But in the meantime... you were excellent. So it's time for your reward."

 

Harry moaned as he felt the large hand that had been cupping and caressing him all during their flight begin to stroke in earnest. He'd been so engrossed in what was happening outside the Needle he'd almost forgotten what was going on inside. It just felt so natural now to be handled by another man —well, by Tomlinson anyway— that he'd almost been able to forget it while they were flighting even though he knew that Tomlinson was touching him that way, deepening their connection. But then, even in the middle of the incredible pleasure his partner was giving him, something occurred to Harry.

 

"Why didn't you ever take me all the way while we were flying through the targets?" he asked, trying to hold back a gasp as Tomlinson stroked him again. "I mean, why didn't you let me come?"

"Because that's an advanced technique I don't think you're ready for yet," Tomlinson murmured, still stroking. His hard shaft between Harry's thighs reminded him that the pilot was in need too but Tomlinson's voice was calm and reasonable as always. "I don't know if you're ready to shoot," he stroked Harry's hard cock for emphasis, "while you shoot."

"I could do it," Harry protested breathlessly. "Doesn't it deepen the connection?"

"Like almost nothing else," Tomlinson admitted. "Although it's best to do it while you're fucking. When you're buried to the hilt in your gunner and you both come at the same time —that's the ultimate. You're literally one person then, sharing the same thoughts, emotions... sharing the same skin. It's amazing."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Were you... could you and Sabine do it?" he asked at last, hoping he wasn't crossing a line. He felt Tomlinson stiffen behind him for a moment but when he spoke, there was no hint of anger in the other Needler's deep voice.

"Once," he said. "Only once. It was the last flight we took before he died. It was the only time he ever opened up to me completely. The only time he really let himself feel what there was between us, I think."

 

Harry felt a sudden stab of jealousy. So Sabine had been willing to do something, however reluctantly, that he, Harry, wasn't willing to do at all. And yet he couldn't help it —no amount of jealousy or any other emotion was enough to make him get over the mass of unresolved fears swimming around inside him and let Tomlinson take him all the way. He just wasn't ready.

 

"Are any of the other Needler crews able to do it?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

Tomlinson made a scornful noise at the back of his throat. "Landrews claims he and Sanderson can but I don't believe it."

"Why not?" Harry managed to ask as the large, warm hand continued to push him closer and closer to the edge.

"They have a deep enough physical connection —hell, Sanderson's cock spends more time in Landrews' ass than it does in his uniform," Tomlinson said. "But it isn't there for them emotionally. They're only committed to each other in order to be at the top of the ratings. There isn't any real emotional attachment —any love. If Sanderson had his way he'd probably be home and married to his girlfriend, trying to forget he ever had any kind of urges toward another guy. And of course Landrews would rather be doing the bar scene every night and screwing everything that has two legs and a cock. Or getting screwed by it. If they had to part, they'd probably be just as happy never seeing each other again."

"Do... do you feel that way about me?" Harry asked, surprised that he had the nerve to ask. He steeled himself for the answer, wondering what it would be.

"I've never felt the way I do for you about anyone, Harry," Tomlinson murmured in his ear. "And that's all I'm going to say about it for right now. So, which do you want —a hand job here or a blowjob once we get back to our quarters?"

 

Harry tried to think about it. He was close —damn close after having been stroked and caressed for the last few hours. But he knew what he really wanted was to delay the inevitable gratification for as long as possible.

 

"I... I want the blowjob," he murmured, his breath hitching in his chest as Tomlinson fondled his balls gently. "But only... only if I can suck you at the same time."

"So you want to service each other at the same time again, hmm?" Tomlinson's voice was warm and amused in his ear. "You liked that, did you, Green Eyes?"

Harry thought of the delicious feeling of being sucked into Tomlinson's warm, wet mouth at the same time that he lapped at his partner's hot, hard, uncut shaft. "It was amazing," he whispered back. "Please, can we do it again?"

"Your wish is my command," Tomlinson murmured as he turned the Needle back toward the airlock they'd come out of. "And I think we'd better take the emergency tube back to our quarters. Otherwise I'm going to end up dragging you down to the floor and taking you right in the docking bay."

 

Harry didn't answer because he couldn't do anything at that point but moan. Moan and wish that he and Tomlinson were already back in their room, servicing and sucking each other until they came.


	22. Chapter 21

"So I heard that you two are number two in the ratings now. Still just number two." Landrews smirked at them, his strange yellow eyes narrowed into slits.

 

For about the hundredth time, Harry wished they didn't have to come to the lounge. He and Tomlinson had been flying together for months now but even though Burns and his group were long gone, his tall, dark partner still insisted that they spend at least one evening a week in the company of the other Needlers.

 _I'm not like them_ , Harry thought for what seemed like the millionth time, staring around at the other couples talking around them. _I'm not really... that way. Gay or queer or whatever you want to call it. I only want one guy —Tomlinson. And even with him I don't go all the way. I could still pick up my life back home if I wanted to and no one would ever know what I've done here to get along._

He didn't want to admit to himself that getting along wasn't the only reason he did what he did every night with his partner. Nor was the excuse of deepening their connection quite enough. He wanted Tomlinson —needed the scarred Needle pilot like he needed his next breath. But they were destined to part soon. After their final exam, Tomlinson was due to graduate, while Harry still had two more years to go at the Academy. So he kept the emotion buried —tucked away so deep inside himself he could barely acknowledge its presence. In the meantime he felt secretly smug every time he and Tomlinson went to the lounge. Smug until they met up with Landrews and Sanderson, that was.

Despite Harry's refusal to take the last step and let his partner make love to him, he and Tomlinson had risen steadily in the rankings and had been hovering at the number two spot for weeks. But no matter how hard they worked or how many hours they spent at the simulator, they couldn't take the number one slot away from Landrews and Sanderson. A fact that Landrews never failed to remind them of when they came to the Needler's lounge.

 

"So, number _two_ ," he said again, elbowing Sanderson, who stood as a solid wall of muscle behind him, looking bored.

"Ah, leave them alone, Landrews," one of the other Needlers, a short, stout pilot named Christenson, said. "Tomlinson has been number one before and I bet it's just a matter of time before he and Styles are number one again."

"Oh I think it might be a while before that happens." Landrews smirked at them, making Harry itch to wipe the smug expression of the effeminate gunner's face with his fist. "Not as long as lady Styles still clings to her virtue."

"That's enough, Landrews." Tomlinson voice was flat. Harry's continued refusal to take their relationship to the next level was an unspoken point of tension between them, one he never mentioned anymore, even in the privacy of their quarters. Harry felt ashamed about that but he was secretly relieved as well. Deep down he was afraid that he actually did want to take that last step and he knew that if Tomlinson had tried to  persuade him to do it, he might not have been able to hold out. So it was easier and safer to simply not talk about it. Unless they were in the lounge, of course, where Landrews always found a way to bring it up.

"Don't get touchy with me, Louis." Landrews' slim white hand fluttered over his narrow chest. "After all, it's not my fault your gunner is saving his cherry for somebody else. Tell me, Styles," he asked sweetly, looking at Harry. "Do you have a boyfriend back home? Somebody with a bigger dick than the Falcon here? Somebody you're saving your sweet ass for?"

"You son of a bitch, you know I don't have a _boyfriend._ " Harry stepped up, only to find himself staring at Sanderson's broad chest.

"Oh dear —still upset when someone points out what you are, Styles?" Landrews laughed at him from behind his partner's beefy arm. "Well let me tell you something, _honey_  —until you get over it and accept that you like boys better than girls— until you give it up to your pilot, you're _never_ going to see the number one slot."

"That's it. I'm leaving." Harry turned in disgust, threading his way through the other Needlers before Landrews could goad him into taking a swing and he wound up fighting Sanderson instead. He didn't need the tension tonight anyway —tomorrow was their final exam. He and his partner would be flying the Needle with the targets set on kill mode. It was strictly a pass/fail situation. Come back alive and you passed. Get blown out of the sky, and, well, Harry thought it was fairly self-explanatory.

 

What he didn't acknowledge was that something besides his possible impending death was bothering him. He was pretty positive that he and Tomlinson would pass the final exam with flying colors —no matter how fast the targets moved or how deadly their aim, he and his partner were faster and deadlier. No, what was really bothering him was that after their test it was only three weeks until graduation. Three more weeks and then the tall, scarred Needle pilot would be out of his life forever. He would be taking a commission in the Fleet, of course, where they would pair him with someone else. Some other Needle gunner who wouldn't hesitate to give him everything, who would open himself completely and let Tomlinson all the way in.

The idea of Tomlinson out of his life and in a relationship with another man was making Harry nearly crazy, which was why he was trying so hard not to think about it. He didn't need the tension. Didn't need the heartache. He stalked toward the lounge door, his eyes on the deep blue carpet, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Tomlinson followed him silently but before the door to the lounge swung closed, he heard Landrews shouting.

 

"You can pretend all you want, Styles, but you're still just a scared little latent," came the taunting voice that made him grit his teeth and clench his fists.

 

They walked in silence back to their quarters and got ready for bed that way too. Tomlinson didn't do more than wash his back in the shower and his treatment of Harry's hands was silent and perfunctory. By the time they got into bed, Harry knew something was wrong but he didn't want to talk about it. If his partner wanted to give him the silent treatment the night before the biggest test of their lives, so be it, he decided grumpily. He had just turned with his back to Tomlinson and started to get comfortable when his partner's deep voice finally broke the silence.

 

"Landrews was right, you know," he murmured in Harry's ear. "We'll never got the top spot. Not unless we fly a perfect course tomorrow and that's going to be nearly impossible doing what we're doing now."

"Jesus, Tomlinson!" Harry turned to face him in the dark, his muscles tight with anger. "I told you how I felt about this. _I can't do it_. Can't give it up to you. I'm sorry."

"Not half as sorry as I am," Tomlinson said softly.

"Why? Because you want the top spot again before you graduate?" Harry demanded.

"Do you really think that's all I care about?" Tomlinson's tone was tense and his ice blue eyes glinted angrily in the near total darkness of their room. "Getting the top spot in the ratings before I go?" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Didn't I tell you that I already made that mistake with Sabine? I pushed him to do what he didn't feel ready to do and look how we ended up. Why do you think I  haven't been pressuring you all these months? Why do you think I waited 'til now to bring it up?"

"What is it about then, if not that?" Harry hissed furiously. "What could it possibly be, Tomlinson? Well? I'm waiting," he added after a long moment of silence from his partner.

"Did it ever occur to you that I wanted you to give yourself to me because you wanted to?" Tomlinson asked at last, his voice quiet and filled with pain. "That I've been waiting for you to feel ready to break down that last wall, to lose that last boundary and trust me enough to let yourself go?"

"Why would I do that when you're leaving me in three weeks?" Harry tried not to let his voice waver on the last words. He still hated to cry and he promised himself he wasn't going to go there, wasn't going to do that.

"Is that what's stopping you?" Tomlinson asked softly. "I'm sorry, Harry, I can't help it that I'm due to graduate and you've got two more years. It almost never happens that way —usually pilots and gunners are from the same class to begin with. That way they can take a commission in the Fleet together."

Harry choked back a sob and tried to sound disinterested. "Is that what you and Sabine were going to do?" he asked. "Take a commission together in the Fleet?"

Tomlinson shrugged, the motion making a rustling sound in the sheet that covered them. "We talked about it some —never very seriously."

"Why not?" Harry asked. He'd had the thought sometimes in the past few months that he would give anything to be able to leave the Academy when Tomlinson did and take a commission with him. But no matter how good a gunner he was, he still couldn't complete the necessary course work in time to graduate with his partner. It would have been impossible —trying to cram three years worth of classes into one. Harry was a good student but he wasn't a genius. "Well?" he asked when Tomlinson didn't answer his question at once. His partner sighed.

"Sabine came from a culture that believed in arranged marriages. His parents had someone all lined up for him and he had promised to marry her right after graduation." He ran a hand through his hair. "I think he was telling himself that he would only be with me until then, that our relationship had finite limits. And then after that he was going to go back home and live a normal life with his wife and however many children they managed to produce and forget that he had ever done... what we did together. Is that what you want, Harry? How you feel?"

"No!" Harry protested at once. Then he remembered his thoughts in the Needlers' lounge —that he could go back to Earth and no one would be the wiser about what he'd done at the Academy. "I mean, yes... I don't know." He shook his head, unable to put his emotions into words.

 

He wished he could explain how he felt to Tomlinson. That he wanted to give himself, wanted to take that final step but he was afraid. Afraid that once Tomlinson was gone and the memory of what they'd meant to each other was just that —only a memory— that he would begin to hate himself for what he had done. For what he'd allowed to be done to him. And how could he go back down to Earth and resume his old life with that memory in his head?

After all, touching and kissing and even sucking each other's cocks was one thing... Actually bending over and offering himself, allowing Tomlinson to take him, to thrust that thick, uncut cock deep into Harry's ass and take him all the way, to fuck him, was something else completely. Something he could never forget or play off as anything other than being totally homosexual. Completely gay. And he wasn't ready to think of himself that way unless the payoff was worth the pain. Unless he and Tomlinson were going to be together forever. Which they weren't since the other Needler was leaving him in three weeks. _Leaving him to fly with someone else._

 

"I just can't," he whispered, turning so that his back was to his partner. "Just can't do it, Louis. I'm sorry."

"Are you scared?" Warm, muscular arms wound around Harry's waist and Tomlinson pulled him close. "Frightened I'll hurt you?" He kissed the side of Harry's neck, his mouth hot against the sensitive skin. "I would never do that, Green Eyes. I'd get you ready first. Ready to take me. Ready for my cock."

 

Harry couldn't help it —the hot words and the warm kisses on the vulnerable nape of his neck made him shiver. Despite the mixture of emotions going on in his head, his cock knew exactly what it wanted. It stood up hard and throbbing against his belly, aching for his partner's touch.

 

"Let me just show you," Tomlinson coaxed softly. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to but let me show you how I'd get you ready. Will you let me do that much, Harry?"

 

Harry's mouth was so dry he could barely answer. He knew he ought to say no, to pull away from the warm, strong arms wrapped around him and the hard shaft pressing against the back of his thigh and go to sleep but when he opened his lips, the words of refusal wouldn't come out.

 

"All right," he heard himself saying breathlessly. "But just... just a little bit. And just this once."

"If tha's the way you want it," Tomlinson murmured. "Turn on your stomach and bring up your left leg."

"Why?" Harry asked but he was already doing as he was told. As hard as it was to admit, he knew that part of him wanted this —wanted to be opened, wanted to be fucked, but he wouldn't let it go that far, he told himself. _Absolutely not._

 

He'd thought he was prepared for anything but he still gasped under his breath when he felt something cool and slick being applied to the tight entrance of his body. "What... what's that?" he managed to ask as Tomlinson began to massage it in.

"Something to get you wet and ready. You didn't think I'd do you dry, did you?" the other Needler whispered in his ear.

"I don't... don't know what I thought," Harry confessed.

"That's your problem —you think too much." Tomlinson's voice was deep and soft as his fingers continued to work in tight circles, easing the tense muscles around Harry's entrance. "Stop thinking for a while and just relax," he continued. "Relax and let me open you, Green Eyes."

 

Harry was about to answer although he didn't know what he would have said when he suddenly felt his partner's other hand on his body. Tomlinson was cupping his cock, stroking it gently as he eased one long finger deep into Harry's body.

 

" _Oh God!_ " Harry heard himself groan helplessly as he felt Tomlinson add another finger. He couldn't believe he was in this position —couldn't believe he was naked and vulnerable, pinned down on the bed on his stomach with his muscular partner topping him, stroking his cock with one strong hand and penetrating him deeply with the fingers of the other.

"Relax," Tomlinson murmured again. He rubbed the spot inside Harry that sent a bolt of pure pleasure through his entire body and made his cock feel like it was going to explode. "Relax and let me get you ready to be fucked, Green Eyes." He pulled back for a moment and then Harry felt him again, spreading even more of the cool, slick gel over his entrence. But this time Tomlinson pushed three fingers inside him, stretching him almost unbearably.

" _Damn!_ " Harry bucked against the sudden pain but he was unable to throw the older, stronger man off. Tomlinson stopped what he was doing at once and simply held him.

"It's all right, Harry," he murmured softly. "It's all right, Green Eyes, I won't hurt you. Just take a deep breath and let me open you up."

 

Biting his lips, Harry tried to do as his partner said. The pain down below was easing up some as the muscles around his entrance loosened up, allowing the three fingers Tomlinson was using to penetrate a little deeper.

 

"Good," Tomlinson growled softly in his ear. "That's good, Harry." He rubbed over the spot deep inside Harry's body that made him moan and gasp again and at the same time he stroked his aching shaft from root to tip. "Doesn't that feel nice? Doesn't it feel right? Don't you want to spread for me... feel me penetrating you... fucking you? Don't you want me to fill you up with my cum?"

 

Harry closed his eyes tightly and fisted his hands in the sheets. His body was screaming for him to say yes, to accept that long, thick shaft deep inside and let Tomlinson ride him until they both came to a shattering climax. But somehow he could still remember the reason he ought to say no —the fact that there was no going back from this, no taking back what he had lost once he gave it to Tomlinson.

 

"I-I don't know," he gasped at last, trying to hold into rational thought when his body was on fire from the way his partner was touching him. "I just... I don't know."

"Let me try something." Tomlinson shifted on top of him, withdrawing his fingers slowly and making Harry squirm.

"What?" Harry whispered through numb lips, uncertain if he should be glad or disappointed that the stretching pleasure/pain was suddenly gone.

"Let me just put the head in," Tomlinson murmured. And before Harry could protest, he felt the blunt, moist probe of his partner's cock pressing gently but insistently against his entrance. "Let me just show you how good it would feel to be fucked. Just a litte."

"Wait!" Harry gasped, suddenly uncertain. "How... how do I know that's all you'll do?"

"Because I told you, I never break a promise," Tomlinson murmured, biting the back of Harry's neck gently, as though asserting his dominance. "Now hold still and open up for me, Harry." As he spoke, he pressed the broad head of his cock slowly into Harry's trembling body, opening him, owning him, fucking him...

" _No!_ " A bolt of panic zinged through him as Harry realized what was happening. His partner was actually going to penetrate him with his cock —not by much but it was enough. enough that he would never be able to forget it and pretend it hadn't happened. Enough that the memory and the longing for more would poison the rest of his life when Tomlinson left. " _No!_ " he gasped again. Fear gave him the strength to wriggle out from under the bigger, stronger man and suddenly he was standing beside the bed in the darkness, panting and trembling as if he'd run a marathon. "No," he said again. "No, I can't. Can't let you."

"I'm sorry." Tomlinson was breathing heavily too and the frustration and need were clear in his deep voice. "Sorry if I pushed you too hard, Harry. I just... damn it —I just want you so much." He took a deep breath and lay back on the bed, patting the mattress in front of him. "Come back to bed. Let's talk."

 

Harry stood there for a moment, taking deep, ragged breaths and trying to think what to do. He wanted —or his body wanted— to get back in bed. To sink into his partner's embrace and breathe in Tomlinson's spicy scent. He wanted to kiss him and touch him, to spread his legs and give his partner everything he wanted...

 _No!_ Harry shook his head trying to clear the traitorous thoughts. _No, if I get back in bed with him I'm lost. I might as well bend over the mattress and beg him to fuck me right here and now if I do that._

 

"Harry?" Tomlinson sounded concerned now. "Look, I said I'm sorry. Now will you just come back to bed?"

" _I'm sorry_." Harry could hear the trembling in his voice but he couldn't seem to control it. "But... but I need a shower."

 

He stumbled into the fresher cubical in legs that felt like sticks and twisted the temperature control until an icy blast of water shot out of the nozzle. He forced himself to stand under the frigid spray until his stubborn cock had deflated and even the barest glimmer of desire to let his partner fuck him was completely and ruthlessly eradicated.


	23. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, Green Eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps the picture can show you an image of what the lobsters would look like.

 

Harry was jerked out of sleep by an ear-splitting shriek.

 

"What the hell?" He sat straight up in bed, his heart hammering in his chest. All the lights were on and a blinding flashing was coming from somewhere high on the wall. Squinting his eyes, Harry managed to see that the pulsing light was coming from the small silver disk he'd noticed on his first day in their quarters, so many months ago.

"Up, get up!" Tomlinson was suddenly dragging him to his feet.

"What? Why? What's happening?" In his confusion Harry thought that someone must have set off the O2 alarm again, as he had the night Burns had attacked him in the shower room. But this alarm sounded different —it was shriller and more urgent. What could be more urgent than the space station leaking atmosphere?

"It's the Lobsters. They're back." Tomlinson's voice was calm but intense. "The Saudeber ship cluster has been sighted," he explained, obviously seeing the confusion on Harry's face. "Come on —this isn't a drill. We have to go."

"But... but... we're naked." Harry fumbled around for his uniform before remembering that he had put it in the laundry chute as he did every night and he wasn't due to get another one until the  morning. What time was it anyway? He felt like he'd only been asleep for a few hours.

"We'd be taking off our clothes to fly the Needle anyway," Tomlinson pointed out. "Besides, there isn't time to get dressed. We have to go _now_!" He grabbed Harry by the hand and pulled him out into the darkened corridor. From the corner of his eye Harry saw several other naked Needlers flash by and then his partner was cramming them both into the emergency tube they'd been using for moths to get to the docking bay. There was a soft swooshing sound in his ears and the feeling of falling downward through a cushion of air.

 

The minute their feet hit the cold metal floor they were running. Harry had caught the feeling of urgency from his partner but he felt a sense of unreality too as they passed the small dressing room where they usually took off their uniforms before a flight. Could it really be possible that the Saudebers were back in Earth's solar system? For months he had been discounting Tomlinson's blind devotion to the idea that mankind's old enemy would return. And now that it appeared to have actually happened, he felt as though something he feared as a child but didn't believe in as an adult had suddenly proved to be a reality. It was as though the boogeyman he'd been certain lived in his closet when he was six years old had suddenly stepped through his front door and threatened him. It was unbelievable. Preposterous.

And yet, even as those thoughts flitted through his head, he was climbing into the sleek silver Needle that had been designated as his and Tomlinson's months before. All around them the other pilot and gunner teams were doing the same. There was some nervous chatter but for the most part the Needlers were quiet as they took their places.

Suddenly there was a booming echo throughout the docking bay and then a deep voice was speaking over the PA system.

 

"Needlers," it said and Harry recognized it as the voice of Colonel Marten, the teacher who had put him and Tomlinson together as a team in the first place. "The Saudeber ship cluster has been sighted coming in fast from the far side of the lunar surface." Marten's voice was tense. "The Fleet Needlers are coming in from Mars but it will take them awhile to get here. In the meantime, it is your honor and duty to defend the Earth." He coughed, a dry hacking sound that echoed in the cavernous space. "No heroics, gentlemen. The queen ship is well-guarded and none of you have the experience to take it out. We simply expect you to deflect the first wave of ships until the Fleet can get here. So go out there and do you damnedest. _Godspeed_." With a final crackle, the PA system went dead.

"Come on, hurry." Tomlinson gestured impatiently for Harry to finish getting into their Needle. He had paused halfway in to listen to the announcement. Now he forced himself to get into position. He tried to breathe deeply as he felt his partner climb in behind him, pressing his muscular chest against Harry's lightly sweating back.

"You okay?" Tomlinson asked as the smart metal molded around them both, closing the hatch of the Needle and fixing them in launch position.

"I-I think so," Harry said. Hearing Colonel Marten confirm that the Saudeber ship cluster was actually here and they were expected to flight it was making him feel slightly dizzy. It wasn't that he was frightened, exactly, it was just so unexpected. Tomlinson, of course, seemed to have no such problems. Of course he'd been expecting a new invasion all along.

 

 _I should have listened_ , Harry thought dizzily as their ship ran through its pre-launch sequence and began to move. _He tried to warn me. Should have listened instead of thinking he was crazy._

 

"Easy, Harry." Tomlinson's voice in his ear was low and comforting and his hands on Harry's body were warm and soothing. "Easy now. We're ready for this. We've been training for months." His words echoed in Harry's mind as he said them, the sign of an imperfect connection.

"Yeah, but I always thought we were training for the final exam," Harry murmured back, knowing Tomlinson was hearing the echo of his words inside his brain as Harry said them.

"We have been —this is the most important final exam you'll ever take," Tomlinson whispered back. His hands caressed lower, stroking Harry's semi-hard shaft, urging him to respond, deepening their bond. "Relax, Styles, we're going to be okay."

"All right." Harry felt his tension lessen as the connection between them improved. He took a firm grip on the JP sticks and looked ahead as Tomlinson aimed them at the airlock that was coming up fast. It cycled open like a star imploding and suddenly they were out into the deep dark.

 

 

**...**

 

 

"To the left! Behind us! Come on, Styles —that one barely missed us. _We have to be faster!_ " Tomlinson's words echoed in his head and Harry found himself mouthing them as his partner said them, feeling the distracting echo that came with an imperfect connection. It seemed like they had been fighting for hours and every move was a struggle because for some reason, he and Tomlinson just weren't in sync.

Harry didn't know if it was because of the nervous tension and adrenaline that was zinging through his body or the fact that fighting the Lobsters was nothing like shooting at targets. But for whatever reason, even Tomlinson's big hand encircling his cock and the feel of his partner's shaft between his thighs wasn't working this time. Despite the fact that he had a death grip on the JP sticks and was trying to look everywhere at once, they kept getting surrounded by clusters of the small but deadly Saudeber drone ships and barely fighting their way out.

The drone ships worked as one to surround them, obviously being controlled from another source. There was no free will involved —that much was obvious by the way a drone ship would frequently sacrifice itself in order to give the other ships in its squadron a better shot. There was only a single, mindless urge to destroy so intense that Harry swore he could almost feel it when the small,silver ships came at them.

As he thought that, yet another cluster of ships, all of them about a fourth the size of their Needle, attempted to surround them. He squeezed the JP sticks mindlessly, trying to take out as many as he could, but there always seemed to be more. Behind him he could feel Tomlinson tense as he maneuvered desperately, trying to avoid the pulses of energy the Saudeber drones were shooting at them. Already several of the Needles that had launched with them were nothing more than twisted bits of metal floating in the blackness of space. Harry had been horrified to see Webs, the skinny gunner who had first welcomed him to the Needlers' lounge so many months ago, float by in five different pieces —his head being the only recognizable one. He wondered if he and Tomlinson were going to end up like that soon. Because no matter how many drone ships they shot down or evaded, there were always more, pouring out of the unseen mother ship like bees from a hive. Nameless, faceless, expendable. The Saudebers seemed willing and able to make sacrifice in their quest for total domination.

 

"That's it," Tomlinson gasped as they eluded yet another cluster of the deadly silver ships. "It's too dangerous to go on like this. I'm taking us around the curve." Before Harry could answer or protest, his partner was piloting their Needle between the space station and the lunar surface, circling the moon. They flew until the hoards of Saudeber drones and the embattled Needles disappeared, until the bulk of the space station that held the Academy was hidden from view by the pale, pock-marked face of the moon and then Tomlinson stopped them abruptly and let the Needle drift.

"What are you doing?" Harry looked around them, using the ships sites to scan in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree arc. "Why did we leave the fight? What about the other Needlers?"

"The other Needlers will have to take care of themselves. And anyway, nothing we could have done there would have made any difference." Tomlinson sounded weary.

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded. "Of course we were making a difference —we were taking out their ships."

"Do you know how many ships like that they probably have? Didn't you see the way they were throwing themselves in the path of our fire in order to distract us?" Tomlinson's deep voice was angry. "I'm telling you, Styles, the Saudebers don't mind losing a few individual ships any more than you mind clipping your fingernails. It's painless for them. And they'll keep on pouring out ships until we're all gone and Earth is theirs for the taking. Letting them pick us off one by one isn't doing any good. We have to do something else."

"What?" Harry demanded but his partner didn't answer. Instead he engaged the Needle's hydrogen scoop thrusters and they began edging around the curve of the moon at a more cautious pace. "Tomlinson, _what_?" he demanded again but the other Needler still didn't answer. Harry opened his mouth to ask again but what he saw in the view screen as they rounded the far curve of the moon completely stole his power of speech.

 

Hovering like a vast silver mountain in space was a ship so immense it made the space station that housed the Academy look tiny. There was a gap in one side of it that looked like a hungry mouth and from this open maw issued a never-ending stream of the tiny, deadly silver ships that were so devastating their fellow Needlers on the other side of the moon.

 

"The queen ship," Tomlinson breathed in his ear. "It's here. And it's vulnerable."

"Vulnerable? Are you crazy?" Harry tried to keep his voice even. "That thing is _huge_  —don't tell me you're thinking of attacking it."

"That's exactly what I'm thinking. Look, do you remember how Tony Rodriguez took out the other queen ship the first time the Lobsters attacked?" Tomlinson sounded excited.

"Uh, no, I don't." Harry was ashamed to admit it but he knew he wasn't the only person who hadn't believed the Saudebers were coming back for round two.

"I've studied his logs —they're on record in the library," Tomlinson said. "He describes a huge ship, like this one, that looked like an armored fortress in the sky. You would think that it was completely invulnerable because the only way to stop the attack was to kill the queen. Right?"

"Uh, yeah. That seems obvious," Harry said. "And they probably keep her locked away in the middle of there somewhere so that she's completely untouchable."

"Wrong." Tomlinson's deep voice was triumphant. "She needs to see to direct them. She needs a view of what's going on. In Rodriguez's logs he states that he flew all around the ship, taking evasive maneuvers, trying to find any kind of weak spot. All he found was one small window that looked like an observation bay near the top of the ship. Out of desperation more than anything else, he shot at it. And that's where she was —the queen! He took her out and the rest of them lost all direction. They just drifted and when some of the drone ships were captured and opened, the pilots inside were dead. They died the minute she did because there was no one to motivate and connect them."

Harry was beginning to see his partner's point. "Like cutting the head off a body," he said. He shivered, remembering Webs' head and the look of horror frozen on its face.

"Exactly. And look." Tomlinson directed his attention to a small area near the top of the huge ship. Something small was twinkling in the solar radiation refleced from the moon's surface. Staring hard, Harry saw that it looked like a tiny window.

"I see it," he said doubfully after a minute. "I also see about fifty drone ships protecting it."

"Yeah, they've learned their lesson —to protect their one vulnerable spot," Tomlinson said, sounding thoughtful. "But it's not enough, we can still take it."

"I don't know." Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. "Shouldn't we wait for the Fleet?"

"If we wait for them to make it all the way from Mars it may be too late," Tomlinson said urgently. "We've got a chance now and we're good enough, Harry. What do you say?"

 

Harry took a deep breath. Now was the time to shine —a chance to save the world no less. And yet all he could think about was the fact that if they failed and were killed, at least he would die with his partner —his lover— right behind him. He woudn't have to bear the pain of parting three weeks from now. He knew it was a fatalistic way to think but he couldn't help it —it was just how he felt.

 

"All right," he said at last, taking a new grip on the JP sticks. "Let's do it." He leaned forward eagerly, ready to blow through the drone ships guarding the queen's window. But to his surprise, the Needler didn't move an inch. He almost turned his head to look over his shoulder before he remembered that the smart metal surrounding him wouldn't allow such a move. " _Well?_ " he asked Tomlinson. "What are you waiting for?"

" _Harry..._ " There was a heaviness in his partner's voice that made Harry feel as if a cold fist was clenching his stomach.

"What?" he asked, afraid to hear what he thought he was going to hear.

"You know we can't go like this," Tomlinson murmured in his ear. "You know our connection isn't strong enough to even get us back inside the docking bay, let alone take on the queen ship. You know what we have to do."

" _No!_ " Harry felt an unreasoning fear grip him. It was one thing to speculate that they might not make it out of this encounter alive. But what if they did? What if they lived through this and still had to be separated in three weeks? What could he possibly tell himself about what had happened? About what he and Tomlinson had done? He wanted to tell Tomlinson all this, wanted to explain himself but fear had locked down his vocal chords.

"It's for a good cause," Tomlinson reminded him, his breath hot on the back of Harry's neck.

" _Don't_ give me that shit," Harry said, trying to feel angry instead of scared. "This isn't some charity here —this is my ass we're talking about. This is you fucking me and you promised you wouldn't."

"Unless you asked me or our lives depended on it," Tomlinson reminded him. Then his voice got quiet. "Please, Harry... won't you ask me?"

"No," Harry said again, feeling like his heart was in his mouth. "Please, Tomlinson, I don't want it to be like this my first time. I just... I still don't feel ready. Can't we do this without you... without you fucking me?"

"If it was just the final exam, I would agree not to," Tomlinson said softly. "But it's a hell of a lot more than that, Green Eyes. And you know it." His voice became suddenly deeper and there was a tone in it Harry couldn't quite understand —regret maybe?

"Look, Tomlinson—" he began but the older cadet cut him off.

"Spread your legs, Styles," he said and there was a steely note of command in his voice Harry knew he wouldn't be able to disobey. "Get ready to be fucked."

"Tomlinson, _please._.." Harry protested but he already knew it was useless.

"Styles?" Tomlinson's voice was low and threatening in his ear. "What did I tell you about who's in charge when we're in the Needle? Well? _Who?_ " His hand tightened on Harry's cock until Harry gasped.

"You-you are, Tomlinson... Sir," he moaned as his partner began a rough, uneven stroke along the suddenly aching length of his shaft.

"I'm glad you happened to remember that, cadet." Tomlinson's voice was still hard and his grip on Harry's cock was tight and demanding. "Now open yourself and let me in."

 

Harry felt the blunt, moist probe that was the head of his partner's cock moving until it was right at the entrance to his body and he knew there was nothing he could say or do that would change Tomlinson's mind. He was filled with emotions —anxiety, desire, fear— all swirled inside him and yet he knew his cock wasn't throbbing and hard in Tomlinson's hand for no reason. Part of him wanted this— and he hated that part of himself. Hated it with a passion and hated the tall, scarred Needler behind him for bringing it out in the open.

 

"Tomlinson," he said softly. "I'm begging you —please don't do this. _Not now_."

"I'm sorry. _I have to_." For a brief moment Tomlinson's voice was softer and filled with remorse. He pressed forward and Harry felt the broad, plum-shaped head of his  partner's cock breach his tight entrance and begin to slide into his body. It hurt like hell and he wanted to squeeze his thighs together to keep it out. At the same time he longed to lean forward and let it happen, to let Tomlinson take him. He didn't know who he hated more —himself for wanting what was happening or Tomlinson for doing the inevitable and taking him even when Harry had begged him not to.

"Fine," he said, almost crying now with pain and shame and need. "But if you're going to do it, just do it. I don't want you to be gentle, don't want you to take your time. Just... just get it over with."

"Are you asking me to rape you?" Tomlinson demanded, his breath hot on the back of Harry's neck. "Is that what you want?"

"Aren't you doing that already?" Harry asked, trying to ignore the hitch he heard in his own voice. "Aren't you taking what I don't want to give? So go ahead, Tomlinson, do it. _Fuck me._ But don't try to make it nice for me —don't try to make me enjoy it. Because no matter how slow and easy you put your cock in me, you're still fucking me when I don't want you to. So just do it."

"Fine. If that's the way you want it." There was steel in Tomlinson's voice again and his arms tightened around Harry's waist, bracing him, holding him in place. The gentle sliding sensation stopped and he pulled back until only the head of his thick cock remained in Harry's body. Then, with one brutal thrust, he pressed forward, ramming himself home, burying his uncut shaft balls deep in Harry's tender ass, taking by force what Harry had been unable or unwilling to give for so long.

" _God!_ " Harry couldn't help gasping at the sudden rough entry. He was still slick from the slippery stuff Tomlinson had used on him earlier that night but no amount of lube could help the fact that he was virginally tight and his partner's cock was immensely thick. He felt himself spasm helplessly around the rude invader, felt Tomlinson's balls brush against the lower curve of his ass and knew that his partner was all the way inside him, that he could go no farther. He could feel the huge shaft pulsing within him, filling him to the limit and beyond as he braced himself against the smart metal of the ship, his eyes momentarily blinded to anything going on outside as he tried to deal with what was happening inside his own body.

"Easy." Tomlinson was panting in his ear, his voice still harsh, but for the first time, Harry didn't hear an echo of the words in his brain when his partner spoke. The connection was finally complete.

 

 _But at what price?_ he thought, feeling as if his heart might explode inside his chest at any time. _At what price?_

 _At a price so high I wouldn't be willing to pay it if there wasn't so much at stake_ , he heard in his head. And suddenly he knew he was hearing Tomlinson —his partner was speaking to him without words. _I'm sorry, Green Eyes_ , the other Needler continued. _So goddamn sorry. But this is our only shot and we have to take it. Try to understand._

 _I'll never understand you,_ Harry shot back. The cock inside him was huge, stretching him painfully, but it wasn't nearly as painful as the feeling of betrayal that filled him. There was a lump in his throat and he blinked rapidly, trying not to give in to the hot prick of tears behind his eyes.

 _I'm sorry_ , Tomlinson murmured in his mind. _So damn sorry, Harry. But this is the way it has to be. And I need you to concentrate now —need you to be at your best. We have to take out that ship. No just for us —for the entire planet._

 _All right._ Harry took a deep breath and blinked away the tears that blurred his vision. His partner was right about one thing, he realized, they only had one shot to take out the queen ship and they both had to be at their best to do it. He was first and foremost a gunner and he was here to shoot and take down the Saudebers, not cry like a little girl with a skinned knee.

 _Good_. Tomlinson's mental tone was even and determined. _Then I need you to try to be open for me now, Harry. Get ready to shoot like you've never shot before. And get ready to be fucked._

 

Moaning softly, Harry did as Tomlinson commanded. Spreading his legs wider, he leaned forward, feeling the smart metal of the ship shift to accommodate his new position as he opened himself, offered himself to his partner.

 

 _I'm ready_ , he whispered in Tomlinson's head.

 _Good. God, you're beautiful when you open for me._ Tomlinson stroked him once from root to tip as his other hand slid up Harry's heaving chest to pinch and twist the tight, hard nubs of his nipples. Then he pulled back once more and slammed home again, skewering Harry's tender ass cruelly with his cock as the Needle jumped forward, leaving the protective curve of the moon and hurtling them through space.

 

Harry gasped and saw stars in front of his eyes and not just the ones surrounding the Needle as Tomlinson literally fucked them forward. His hands tightened convulsively on the JP sticks but he didn't fire yet. He didn't fire because the Saudeber ships hadn't noticed them yet and Tomlinson wanted to keep the element of surprise as long as they could. He knew this because his partner knew it and their connection was as near to perfect as it could possibly get at this point. It couldn't get any better unless Harry was able to come and he knew he couldn't, not like this.

And yet, even as he thought that there was no way, he felt a sudden surge of desire as the thick shaft inside him rubbed over that one special spot Tomlinson had shown him so long ago in the shower the first time he'd jerked Harry off. He moaned softly, not entirely in pain, as Tomlinson pressed it again and then again as he angled his cock to touch it deliberately.

Harry wished he wouldn't do that. He didn't want to be enjoying this. Didn't want to give in to the pleasure he could feel hovering just over the horizon as Tomlinson set up a slow, steady, deliberate rhythm inside his body. But he couldn't seem to help it. The closer they got to the Saudeber queen ship, the more the pleasure he felt overcame the pain and the deeper their connection became. It was amazing.

But Harry didn't have long to consider the strange pleasure that was building inside him. Because they had finally been noticed. Without having to be told, he fired with all guns, blasting a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle of death around them, buying time as the small portal where the queen would be drew nearer and nearer. He felt Tomlinson taking evasive actions, tilting the Needle wildly to avoid incoming fire as he took out the ships that tried to surround them in all directions.

The blackness of space all around them was shattered by the multiple blasts from the deadly silver ships but Harry kept his eyes on the prize, on the mountainous bulk of the huge queen ship that was rushing toward them with firghtening speed. Dimly he was aware that Tomlinson had increased his rhythm and was now pistoning in and out of him, fucking him with an intensity and force that would have pushed Harry across the ship if the smart metal hadn't held him tightly in place. He could feel himself stretching, trying to accommodate the thick invader, could feel the pleasure/pain building inside him as Tomlinson stroked his aching cock, keeping time with his own thrusts inside Harry's body. But nothing mattered other than getting to the looming silver fortress. _Nothing_ , Harry told himself fiercely. _Nothing._

They flew as they had never flown before —one man in one skin with only one set of thoughts between them. Adn suddenly the way was clear and they were there. Harry could scarcely believe it. He looked through the tiny portal and saw something large and red and pulsating. Something covered in a shell that was both sharp ad serrated. There was a dim outline of disproportionately huge claws and an impression of slitted alien eyes. Harry had a split second to think, _God, they really do look like lobsters!_ And then he squeezed the JP sticks, bringing all of the Needler's considerable fire power to bear on that one tiny spot.

There was a silent but deadly explosion as a burst of shattered glass-like material blew outward from the mountainous wall of the huge ship. At the same time, Harry felt himself reach the peak and felt Tomlinson peaking withing him.

 

 _God! OhGodohGod_ , he thought incoherently as he came hard into his partner's hand and felt Tomlinson pulse inside him, filling him with hot cum. For a brief instant the pleasure overwhelmed him and he couldn't shoot. But it didn't matter —his fingers squeezed the JP sticks anyway, firing another round to be absolutely certain that the Alien queen was dead. _Tomlinson_ , he realized. _Tomlinsong is doing this_ — _he's firing the guns through me, using the connection between us to do it._ He wondered briefly if he could now pilot the ship through his partner, using the same trick, but then the blinding pleasure was ebbing and he knew the moment of perfect connection was over. Along with everything else.

 

All around them the deadly silver ships were drifting aimlessly in space and the endless stream of drones had abruptly ceased to flow from the maw of the mother ship. The Lobsters were, for all intents and purposes, dead.

 

 _Let's head back._ Tomlinson's voice inside his head was weary. _We're done here._ The words had a finality that echoed in the empty chambers of Harry's heart as the Needle swung around and headed back to the Academy.


	24. Chapter 23

There was silence inside the Needle when they first landed and then Tomlinson put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Green Eyes," he murmured.

" _Don't!_ " Harry flinched away from the comforting hand, wishing he could get completely away from his partner but that was impossible in the limited confines of the Needle. "Just... just get out of me," he blurted, trying to keep his emotions in check. "Just get out of me and leave me alone."

 

Silently, Tomlinson did as he asked, letting his large flaccid shaft slip from Harry's body in a slow, even slide. Harry winced in pain as the invader was withdrawn and tried to muffle a moan. For a moment it seemed as if Tomlinson was going to apologize again but the moment passed in silence as he climbed out of the Needle.

Harry climbed out after him, feeling like his legs didn't want to work right. He was in pain and all he wanted was to go back to his quarters, take a shower and go to bed. Alone. It was the same way he'd felt on his first night with Tomlinson —minus the searing pain, of course. The bitter irony nearly made him laugh —that he should feel the same way the first night and the last night of their partnership seemed too much. Because after tonight whatever he'd had with the tall, scarred Needler was oficially over, at least to Harry. He didn't have to wait another three weeks to dissolve their friendship. In his mind it had ended the moment Tomlinson had ordered him to spread his legs.

 

"Well, well, hail the conquering heroes." The smirking, sarcastic voice of Landrews was the last thing Harry wanted to hear. He looked up to see the slender gunner and his beefy pilot striding toward them in the echoing docking bay.

"I can't deal with this right now," he muttered but before he could get out of the way, Landrews and Sanderson were standing in front of them, blocking his way to the transport tube.

"Excellent flying." Sanderson clapped him on the shoulder and pumped Tomlinson hand enthusiastically. "Landrews and I were coming around the side of the moon and we saw it all."

"We thought you two were determined to go out in a blaze of glory." Landrews tittered annoyingly. "It seemed like a suicidal move —unless you had a _perfect_ connection." His sharp amber eyes scanned Harry's naked body with interest, lingering longer than seemed necessary on his thighs. "So _did_ you, Falcon?"

"That's none of your goddamn business," Tomlinson growled. His deep voice echoed in the cavernous space but Landrews apparently couldn't take a hint.

"Because I've never seen you fly like that before and believe me, Jon and I have been watching, haven't we, honey?" He elbowed Sanderson who nodded ponderously.

"So tell me, boy wonder," he said, eyeing Harry again. "Did you lose your cherry tonight fighting the big bad lobsters?"

" _I said that's none of your fucking business!_ " Tomlinson's voice was a muted roar and he stepped forward, his hands balled into fists. "I'm warning you, Landrews, one more word and I'll rip your fucking head off."

"Hey, now—" Sanderson began, stepping between Tomlinson and his gunner, but Tomlinson simply pushed him out of the way, causing the beefy pilot to stumble and almost fall. Other Needlers were gathering now, coming foward to congratulate them, but none of them appeared willing to step into the growing conflict.

"Louis, please! Get hold of yourself." It was clear Landrews was trying to sound disdainful but his voice came out in a high-pitched squeak and his face was pale.

"No, _you_ put a rein on your mouth for once, Landrews." Tomlinson stabbed a finger at the effeminate gunner. "You think you can mouth off as much as you want and hide behind Sanderson but you won't get away with it this time. Lay off Harry or I'll fuck you both up."

 

Harry looked at his partner in dull surprise. He had only seen the laconic Tomlinson this upset once and that was during the confrontation with Burns in the shower room. Once, having his partner step in and defend him from Landrews' taunts might have stirred some emotion in his, but now he just felt disconnected.

 

"Yes, he fucked me. Is that what you wanted to hear?" he asked, looking at the still-shocked Landrews and not caring if every other man in the docking bay heard his echoing words. "He was fucking me the entire time we took on the queen ship and yes, it was my first time. Are you satisfied now?"

Landrews gave him another lascivious once over and smirked. "Not nearly as much as you are, honey, I'm sure."

"That's it." Tomlinson stepped forward, already in motion. Before Sanderson, who was still standing to one side blinking stupidly, could react, Tomlinson's fist connected with Landrews' jaw and the gunner was down on the hard metal floor.

"I can't believe you did that!" He looked up in shock. His carefully gelled platinum spikes were in disarray and a thin trickle of blood was coming from his burst bottom lip. "Jon, honey, look what he did." He looked appealingly up at his pilot who started to take a menacing step toward Tomlinson.

The scarred Needler held up his hand. "This isn't about you, Sanderson. It's about your partner and his big mouth. But come on if you want to."

 

Harry knew he should wait to see the outcome of the confrontation brewing in the docking bay but he couldn't seem to care. He felt bone weary, his body aching from the tension and pain he'd endured in the Needle and his mind longing for the oblivion of sleep so he could disconnect from everything that had happened. Turning, he padded slowly toward the tube transport, letting the angry voices behind him fade to nothing.

 

 

**...**

 

 

Harry had turned the shower on full blast and was about to step into the steaming water when Tomlinson entered the fresher cubical.

 

"What do you want?" Harry asked, forcing his mouth to move. It was an effort just to get the words out.

"To take care of you," Tomlinson said curtly. "Like I do every night, Green Eyes."

"Not tonight." Harry stepped into the shower, barely even wincing as the boiling water hit his flesh.

Tomlinson frowned critically. "That water's too hot. You're going to scald your skin off."

"Maybe I want to." Harry closed his eyes and tried to ignore his partner's muffled curse.

"Jesus, Harry — _you're bleeding._ " Tomlinson's voice was sharp.

 

He looked down and saw the tendrils of crimson running down his legs and swirling into the shower drain. He knew he ought to feel something about what he was seeing but all he could think of was the last time he'd seen blood in the shower —the way he'd knocked the straight razor out of Tomlinson's hand and the way they'd loved each other after ward. Then it had seemed that there was nothing between them that couldn't be fixed. But now their partnership was broken — _broken beyond repair_ , he realized.

 

"Damn it —move over!" Tomlinson pushed into the small square shower beside him and twisted the temperature gauge until the water was no longer scalding. Then he bent Harry over at the waist and reached between his legs.

" _Don't._ " Harry stiffened against his partner's hands, his muscles tense. The lethargy that had gripped him since he'd climbed out of the Needle suddenly transmuted itself to blind panic and he felt like a trapped animal. "Don't touch me."

"Hold still!" Tomlinson looped an arm around his shoulders and held him, his muscular chest pressed hard against Harry's back. "Take it easy," he murmured in Harry's ear. "I'm just trying to help you."

"Trying to hold me still so you can... can..." Harry shook his head, unable to finish. He heard the terror in his own voice but he couldn't seem to help it. All he knew was that he didn't want to be subjected to what he'd gone through in the Needle again —especially not so soon while he was still in so much pain.

"Relax, Styles. I'm not going to fuck you." There was something that sounded suspiciously like tears in Tomlinson's deep voice. "I just want... just let me clean you up. Let me try to make it better."

"There's _nothing_ you can do that will make it better," Harry said but he could feel the terror fading with his partner's promise. In its place the emotional lethargy came flowing back, twice as strong as before. Everything looked gray and dead to him as he allowed Tomlinson to bend him over and wash him with long, careful fingers.

 

He winced once or twice when there were twinges of pain and each time Tomlinson caressed his bare back with one hand and murmured in his ear. Harry didn't hear what he was saying but the words had a calming effect anyway and he allowed himself to be thoroughly washed and explored.

When Tomlinson was apparently satisfied he'd done all he could do, he helped Harry out of the shower and dried him off, tending him as carefully as he had the first night he'd jerked him off. Harry tried not to think about that as he let himself be led to the bed. With a sigh, he lay down on it face first. He was too tired to care what was coming next, he told himself. Nothing mattered anymore. He heard his partner rummaging  around in his side of the plasti-wood dresser and then he was back, kneeling beside Harry on the bed.

 

"You're torn," he said softly, one hand stroking through Harry's short, wet curls. "I have something here that will help. Will you let me put it on you?"

"I guess." Harry nodded, the side of his face still pressed against the mattress. He closed his eyes as he felt Tomlinson open his thighs and spread the vulnerable flesh of his ass.

 

He was expecting something cool and slick like the lube Tomlinson had used on him earlier that night, which now seemed like an eternity ago. So he was surprised instead to feel something hot and wet probing the sensitive area, laving his torn flesh.

 

"What the...?" He lifted his head off the mattress and craned around to see Tomlinson with his face buried between his thighs. "What are you doing?" he asked, hearing the hitch of his voice but unable to stop it.

"Kissing it better." Tomlinson's voice was thick, his blue eyes hooded with pain and desire. "Tasting you. I'm at your service." He bent back down and Harry gasped to feel the wet warmth of his partner's tongue swirling around his tender entrance and dripping gently inside as if to lick away his hurt.

 

Harry's cock was suddenly rock-hard and straining against the mattress, longing for a release as though he hadn't just come less than an hour before. The sensation of his partner's tongue exploring the most sensitive, vulnerable part of his body was the most incredible feeling he'd ever had. He'd never dreamed of doing this or having it done to him but it was incredibly hot — _amazingly_ hot. It was... It was not enough, Harry realized abruptly.

 

"Stop it." He rolled over, breaking the intimate contact and sat up in the bed. Drawing his knees up in front of him protectively he glared at his partner.

"Harry, please." Tomlinson's voice was grating and pleading at the same time. "Just let me—"

" _No more._ " Harry shook his head. "No more touching, no more tasting, no more fucking. No more anything. I'm through with this. I'm through with _you_ , Tomlinson."

Ice blue eyes bored into him. "You can't be, Styles. Or did you forget, I'm your partner."

"Not anymore." Harry felt as if a part of him were breaking but he made himself sit up straight and look the older man in the eye. "Or at least you won't be in the next three weeks. Three weeks isn't so long, is it, Tomlinson? I think we can manage to avoid each other for at least that long."

"The hell we will," Tomlinson snarled. "Damn it, Harry, just listen to me! I did what I had to do tonight. I'm sorry if I hurt you in the process but you just made me so goddamn mad and—"

" _I_ made _you_ mad?" Harry shook his head incredulously. "You lied to me, Tomlinson. You said you never broke a promise but you did."

"I promised I wouldn't fuck you unless you asked me to or our lives depended on it." Tomlinson's voice was steely now, his eyes narrowed to cold slits. "I kept that promise, Harry. We never could have taken the queen ship without a perfect connection. I did what had to be done."

"And I'm sure the rest of the world is going to think you're a hero for doing it," Harry spat at him. The numbness that had fallen like a curtain over his emotions the moment he stepped out of the Needle was suddenly gone, replaced by a pain so deep and wide he felt as if he were drowning in it. He felt betrayed, hurt, used and his only thought was to make Tomlinson feel as bad as he did —if that was possible. "They'll think you're a hero but I know the truth," he said, lacing every word with venom as he glared at the dark, scarred face he thought he'd grown to love. "That you're no better than Burns and his crew. Isn't it funny how some people get prosecuted for rape while others get praised for it? They'll probably give you a goddamn medal for what you did to me tonight."

 

He saw the pain etched in Tomlinson's features at his words and felt a sudden, bitter stab of victory. _Good!_ he thought savagely, clenching his jaw. _Now you know how it feels! Teach you to take what I didn't want to give. Teach you to leave me_. He was ruining everything —ripping the emotions he and Tomlinson had shared between them into shreds. But it wasn't enough —he wanted to watch them burn as well. Wanted to light the final match that would incinerate forever the love he'd felt for his partner. Watching Tomlinson's face, he drove home the final nail.

 

"Now I know what Sabine must have felt like."

 

For a moment Harry thought Tomlinson was going to take a swing at him and he almost wished he would. It was too much, what he had said. _Too far._ He wished he could call the words back. Even though the bitter part of him was exulting in the pain he saw in his partner's eyes, a larger part of him was crying out that he had to stop, had to beg Tomlinson to forgive him, to try to salvage any part of their relationship that might be left...

But it was too late. Tomlinson shook his head, his face carefully blank, and rose from his place on the floor. Without saying a word, he turned and left the room, letting the door swoosh shut behind him.

 _He's gon_ e, Harry thought mumbly, staring at the spot where the other Needler had been, willing him to come back. _He's really gone. Gone for good._

Somehow he knew it was true.


	25. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love you.

The next three weeks were the hardest Harry had ever had to endure. He and Tomlinson were heroes. The entire Academy was in an uproar about their miraculous performance. Everywhere he went, people dispatched at great expense to get exclusive interviews with the two young men who had saved the planet from certain destruction. The tension peaked when it was somehow leaked that the Fleet would have been too late if Tomlinson and Harry had followed orders and waited for them. Apparently the Saudebers had dropped several dozen squadrons on the far side of Mars, effectively cutting the Fleet off and keeping the professional Needlers from getting anywhere near where they need to be in order to stop the attack.

Through it all Harry had to pretend that he was modestly proud of what he and Tomlinson had accomplished when he actually felt as if he were dying inside. Tomlinson's family came up a few days before the graduation ceremonies were scheduled to be held and he got to meet Tara, his former partners' fiancée. She was a willowy brunette with cold, aristocratic features to match Tomlinson's own and she hung on his arm for an entire day, giving Harry dirty looks before she and Tomlinson's parents were moved to the guest quarters. Harry wanted to tell her that she had nothing to worry about —couldn't she tell that he and the other Needler were history? That every word they said to each other was cold and stilted and for the benefit of whomever else happened to be in the room watching? The whole thing made him feel sick —as though someone had shoved a ball of melted lead into his stomach and left it there to burn a hole to his heart.

But even seeing Tomlinson give his fiancée a cool goodbye kiss and watching the proprietary way Tara hugged him wasn't as bad as what happened later.

 

 

**...**

 

 

The day before graduation, the Admiral of the Fleet himself came to the Academy to meet them. He offered Tomlinson a commission of the highest order on the spot and told Harry that a similar spot would be waiting for him when he graduated. He even brought a new partner along for Tomlinson, a tall, handsome gunner named Paul Jorgensen with light brown hair and knowing hazel eyes. Jorgensen's own pilot had recently left the Fleet, leaving him stranded and in need of a new partner, the Admiral explained. And even though Tomlinson was fresh out of the Academy, he couldn't think of a better match for one of his best gunners.

 _I can think of a better match_ , Harry thought, watching as his former partner shook hands with his new gunner. He could tell by the look in Jorgensen's eyes, by the way he gave Tomlinson a frankly sexual appraisal as his hand lingered too long during the handshake that he wouldn't mind being topped by the dark, scarred pilot. Jorgensen wouldn't withhold himself in any way or accuse Tomlinson of taking what he didn't want to give —no, he would give it freely. Hell, from the lascivious look in his eyes, he wouldn't have minded dropping to his knees and blowing his new pilot on the spot, Harry thought sourly. He tried to stop the jealousy that gnawed at his soul like a rat but it was impossible and the flow of bitter thoughts continued.

 _Nothing latent about him_ , his mind pointed out as he stared at Jorgensen. It was obvious that the new gunner was secure in his masculinity and his sexuality at the same time —the complete opposite of Harry. _He_ wouldn't care if anyone said he was gay or called him a faggot. _He_ probably didn't have a girlfriend waiting at home whom he was no longer attracted to. And _he_ wouldn't throw himself wholeheartedly into a relationship with another man and tell the world to go fuck itself if they didn't like it.

He watched as Tomlinson nodded back and smiled, holding the other man's hand in his own as he held his gaze, the promise of what was to come growing between them. He watched them together and there was nothing he could do about it but nod and smile, nod and smile, like the idiot he was. Never mind that the smile plastered on his face felt fake and plastic and his jaw muscles ached from holding it in place. Never mind that he wanted to scream. Wanted to punch Tomlinson's new gunner in the mouth and stomp on his head. Never mind any of that —it was important to put up a good front and pretend he didn't care, even to himself, that Tomlinson was leaving. Or that was what Harry told himself. Over and over again.

The night before the graduation ceremonies he sat on the bed and stared at his hands, wishing he still had the straight razor he'd thrown down the laundry chute the night he'd taken it from Tomlinson. Then at least he would have a way to end his pain. The pain he told himself he didn't feel even though it was eating him up inside.

Tomlinson was long gone, having moved to a new room by himself weeks ago at his own request. He was a hero now —he could have pretty much anything he wanted and a single room wasn't apparently too much to ask. Harry knew he could have gotten just about anything he wanted too from special meals to a trip Earth-side to see his family but he couldn't make himself want anything. _Anything but Tomlinson._

 _I don't care that he's gone_ , Harry thought for the millionth time and tried to make himself believe it. _What he did was inexcusable —unforgivable. He hurt me and he's leaving. And I'll be damned if I sit here and cry about it._ Standing, he decided to go work out in the zero-g room. He'd only been there once before with Tomlinson since it was reserved exclusively for upperclassmen but he was a hero now and no doors were closed to him. _Might as well take advantage of it while it lasts_ , he thought gloomily.

He was almost to the door when he heard a strangely familiar voice just outside it.

 

"Well, hello, _faggot_ ," it said, the nasally tone rising to put emphasis on the last word. "You're just the person I wanted to see."

 

Harry frowned. _That can't be who I think it is —_ _can it? What the hell is he doing here?_

 

"Hello, Burns, what are you doing here? I thought you were Earth-side taking an extended vacation —in prison." The other voice was unmistakably Tomlinson's and Harry felt a sudden fluttering in his stomach. What was his former partner doing outside his door? Was he just passing by or had he forgotten something in the room he used to share with Harry? And if he came in to get it, would he be willing to talk, to say more than the few cold sentences that had passed between them in the last three weeks?

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Burns' voice snarled, dragging Harry out of his fantasy. "You'd love to hear I was locked away somewhere taking it up the ass, wouldn't you, _Falcon_?"

"Personally, Burns, I'd be happier if I never heard from you again. How did you even get up here, anyway?"

"Actually, I'm here thanks to _you_ , Tomlinson. See, everybody who's anybody on the council is coming up here for graduation to congratulate your sorry faggot ass on saving the Earth —including my father. So I stowed away on his private transport because I wanted to see you one last time."

"Well isn't that sweet? Excuse me if I don't give _a good goddamn_." Tomlinson sounded impatient. "Now, do you mind getting out of my way? I need to speak to my partner."

 

 _Partner —_ _he called me his partner!_ Despite himself, Harry felt his heart jump. Unable to wait anymore, he waved at the door's sensor plate, waiting impatiently for it to open. As it did, he heard Burns speak again.

 

"I'll get out of your way as soon as I give you your graduation present, Tomlinson," he said, his voice filled with hate. There was an electrical sizzling sound, a sound Harry had heard only once before when he was at the shooting range with his father and someone beside them was trying out a new electromagnetic pulse rifle. Then he heard a shout of pain and high, triumphant laughter.

 

As the door slid all the way open, seemingly in slow motion, Harry saw the long, lean form of his partner crumpled on the hard metal floor of the corridor. There was a smoking hole burned in the upper left quadrant of Tomlinson's uniform and a spreading pool of blood under his motionless body.

 

" _God!_ " Harry was on his knees, slipping in the blood as he tried to gather Tomlinson into his arms. He was vaguel aware that Burns was still there, standing over him with a weapon in one hand, but that didn't seem to matter. The only thing that mattered was the limp form in his arms. "Tomlinson... Louis," he whispered, patting his partner's pale cheek with one hand. "Tomlinson! God... _no_."

"Well if it isn't the Falcon's little pet faggot." Burns was obviously gloating. His bulging china blue eyes and red face below the skull-cut blond hair were as ugly as Harry remembered.

" _You son of a bitch,_ " he said thickly but he didn't have time to argue with the lunatic standing in front of him, he realized. If he did, Tomlinson would die. If he wasn't dead already. He wanted to run down the long metal corridor and call for help but he was afraid if he left Tomlinson alone Burns would shoot him again.

"I just gave him what he deserved." Burns bulging eyes narrowed as he glared at Tomlinson's silent form in Harry's arms. "From the first minute I got here, he stole everything I wanted. He got to be a Needler and I didn't. I thought he was finished when I fucked his first partner but then you showed up," he spat at Harry. "Tomlinson's little pet —you got me thrown out of the shithouse and then you two faggots have the fucking nerve to go and save the entire fucking Earth from an alien invasion. Now you're some kind of fucking heroes and I'm stuck Earth-side going to these stupid counseling sessions three times a week my dad's attorney agreed to so they wouldn't throw me in prison. _I'm_ down there while _Tomlinson_ is up here, taking everything that should have been mine."

 

Harry stared at him in amazement, not sure how to answer, wondering if he dared to call for help. But Burns was reaching the end of his rant, his face almost purple with rage.

 

"It should have been _me_ who flew that Needle," he screamed, little drops of spittle flying from his thick lips. " _Me_ who fired on the queen ship. _Me_ who saved the planet. Do you hear me? _It should have been me!_ "

 

He lowered the pulse rifle and took careful aim at Harry although he could hardly miss at such short range. Harry stared down at the barrel. The hole at the end looked as wide as a subway tunnel and as dark as the space outside the Academy. _My God_ , he thought, his brain going numb, _he's going to do it. He's really going to do it._

He bent over Tomlinson's limp body, trying to shield it protectively with his own even though he knew it was too late. So he was going to die in his lover's arms after all, he managed to think as he watched Burns' finger tense on the trigger. Only it wouldn't be in the tight confines of the Needle fighting the alien hordes. No, it would here in the dull gray halls of the Academy at the hands of a crazy man who blamed him and Tomlinson for all his problems...

 

"He went this way!" The shout from the other end of the corridor was enough to pull Burns' attention away from his intended victim. Harry watched numbly as his bulging blue eyes widened and he looked fearfully over his shoulder. There was a sound of running footsteps echoing down the metal halls and suddenly two of the Academy's security team were bearing down upon them, light pistols out and ready, both aimed at Burns.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Burns dropped the pulse rifle from apparently nerveless fingers and fell to his knees, fear filling his china blue eyes.

One of the guards stooped to pick up the abandoned rifle while the other one ran to where Harry was still cradling Tominson's limp form. "Is he all right?" he demanded, already pulling the two way communicator out of his belt.

"I-I don't know." Harry felt helpless. He'd been trying to block the bloody exit wound with his hand ever since pulling his partner into his arms but the pool of blood continued to grow. He was sitting in it now, its stickly warmth soaking the bottom half of his uniform, and still Tomlinson didn't stir. "Please," he whispered. "He's my partner. The medi tech—"

 

But the guard was already calling. In a blur, Harry watched as a subdued and sobbing Burns was led away and an emergency stretcher was brought for Tomlinson. When it came time to load the lean, muscular form onto the stretcher he didn't want to let go. The med-tech, seeing the state he was in, allowed him to come with him to the infirmary. But once there, Tomlinson was taken to the operating theater and the door was closed firmly in Harry's face.

He sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting area for what felt like hours wondering what was happening. Wondering if Tomlinson was dead or was going to die. Wondering how he could have been such a fool.

 

 _He hurt me_ , part of him argued. _He broke his promise —_ _made me into something I didn't want to be._

 _He did what he thought he had to do_ , something that sounded suspiciously like the voice of reason argued back in his head. _And as for making you into what you didn't want to be —_ _get real, Harry. Don't you mean he made you face the fact of what you are? Nobody can make you gay or straight. Tomlinson made you acknowledge it for the first time._

_Yes, but he was leaving. Taking a commission in the Fleet with that fucking Jorgensen._

_Can you blame him? After what you said? He was trying to apologize, Harry. Trying to make it better. And you said the worst thing you could think of. You shredded him —_ _deliberately._

_I was in pain. I wanted him to hurt too._

_And look how much good it did you. You're still in pain and Tomlinson may be dead or dying. You'll probably never see him again. So enjoy the mess you made, Harry. You made your bed and now you get to lie in it —_ _alone._

 

" _Alone_ ," he whispered aloud. "Always alone." He'd been told that the Academy was already scouring candidates to be his new pilot but now Harry knew he wouldn't be able to fly with anyone else. After the graduation ceremonies tomorrow he was going to ask to be transferred to the Engineering Corps. He would never again get into a Needle, never again feel that soaring sensation or the perfect connection of the neural net, not if he couldn't feel it with Tomlinson.

 

 _Tomlinson... oh God, Tomlinson. How could I be such an idiot_? The numbness he'd felt during the encounter with Burns was gone now, replaced with a searing pain so intense he thought he might die of it. His earlier jealousy was like a pin-prick to this and his anger at Tomlinson seemed stupid and wasteful. It had robbed him of the last three weeks he could have had with his partner. Had blinded him to what he should have known all along —that he loved Louis Tomlinson with all his heart, mind and soul. That he would rather die than be without him.

 

 

**...**

 

 

"He's calling for you." The rough voice of the medi tech woke him from an exhausted sleep. Harry looked up blearily, uncertain if he was still dreaming or not.

"What?" He shoved a hand through his ragged curls, wondering if he'd heard the man right or not.

"I said, he's asking for you. You awake?"

"Uh, yeah." Harry started to scrub a hand over his face and then realized it was covered in dried blood that sifted down like rust-colored dust when he closed his fingers. His uniform was stiff with it too and he left a dark reddish-brown stain on the white plastic chair when he got up. "I'm kind of a mess," he said, grimacing. "Are you sure he's asking for me and not his family or fiancée? They're here in the guest quarters for graduation."

"Nope, it's you he wants to see. You're Harry Styles, his partner. Right?"

Harry felt his heart leap. "Yeah. Yes I am." Then his stomach did a sudden turn. "Is he... will he be all right? He's not asking for me because he's... he's dying. Is he?"

"He'll be okay." The medi tech shook his head and Harry noticed the dark circles under his eyes. "We worked on him for hours —had to give him three transfusions. The blast took out one entire lobe of his left lung so we had to regrow that —only missed his heart by a couple centimeters. Lucky it did or he would have been dead before we could get to him." He frowned at Harry. "Don't take too long —he still isn't in great shape."

"I won't." Harry was already up and moving, going through the door that had been shut in his face earlier, looking for the recovery area, which he knew from his own past experience was around to the left. He pulled back a green curtain and there, in one of the sensory cots that kept track of vitals, he saw the pale, scarred face of his partner.

 

"Tomlinson! Louis!" He ran the rest of the way and only the fear of hurting his partner more stopped him from gathering Tomlinson into his arms and hugging him tightly. He had to content himself with taking one of the other Needler's long fingered hands instead and twining their fingers together.

"Hey, Green Eyes." Tomlinson's deep voice had a whispery quality about it and his face looked as pale as the pillowcase he was lying on. "I missed you."

"Missed you too. I thought you were gone." Harry heard the tears in his voice and tried to force them back. He put a hand on Tomlinson's scarred cheek, noticing how cold it was, before drawing back shyly. "Thought you were gone forever," he whispered. The tears came then and he couldn't stop them —had to let them flow even though he didn't want to. He put a hand over his eyes, careless of the dried blood on his fingers, and tried to regain control.

"Hey, it's all right —I'm stil here. It'd take more than an asshole like Burns to put me down." Tomlinson's words were strong but his voice was full of emotion. Harry looked up and saw that the familiar ice blue eyes were suspiciously bright. "I guess most of this is mine, huh?" Tomlinson asked, gesturing at the dried blood that covered Harry.

"Yeah. You were down when I stepped out into the hall." Harry took a deep breath and swiped at his eyes, trying to pull himself together. "Why did you ask for me? Why not your parents or your fiancée?"

"I ask for who I wanted to see and that was you," Tomlinson said gently. "I was hoping you'd want to see me too."

"I did. I do." Harry ran a hand through his curls and tried to breathe. "I mean, I've been out there in the waiting room all night, or however long it's been. I don't even know what time it is. I was sure you were _dead._ " He heard his voice crack on the last word and swallowed hard. "I was so afraid I was never going to see you again."

Tomlinson frowned. "I told you it would take more than an asshole like Burns to put me six feet under." He looked at Harry intently, squeezing his hand. "You were with me almost from the moment he pulled the trigger. I was pretty out of it but I do remember you holding me. You could have run back in the room and locked the door. Why did you stay?"

Harry looked down. "Burns still had the rifle pointed at you. I wanted to go for help but I didn't dare to leave you for fear he'd shoot again."

"That was stupid." Tomlinson's voice hardened. "You should have left me. You could have been killed."

Harry felt a burst of anger somewhere in the middle of his chest. "No, what was stupid was almost letting you graduate and leave without telling you how I really feel about you."

Tomlinson looked grave. "I think I know how you feel and I don't blame you. I took from you, Harry. Took something you weren't ready or willing to give and I'm sorry for that. At the time I thought the end justified the means. Now..." He shook his head, his long brown hair rustling on the pillow. "Now I'm not so sure."

"I'm not talking about that." Harry felt as if the words were going to burst out of him if he didn't say them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the medi tech watching them, making sure he didn't get Tomlinson too upset but he didn't care anymore. Didn't care who saw or who knew. "I'm talking about the fact that _I love you_ ," he said, looking straight into Tomlinson's ice blue eyes. "I've never felt this way before —never thought I could for another guy. But... I can't help it. Don't want to help it."

Tomlinson reached up to stroke his cheek. "I don't want you to help it either, Green Eyes. Because I feel the same way."


	26. Chapter 25 - Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's staying.

"Louis, take it easy. Are you sure you're ready to come back?" Harry watched his partner anxiously as Tomlinson walked down the corridor to their quarters. The other Needler still moved with an arrogant saunter but Harry thought that he could detect a little stiffness in his partner's casual gait.

"Relax, Green Eyes, it's been a whole month and I've been dying to get out of that damn infirmary from the minute they put me in there. I'm fine."

 

Harry nodded uncertainly and bit his lip to keep from saying anything else. Still, he kept his eyes trained on the lean, muscular form beside him, ready to offer help if Tomlinson showed the least hint of needing it.

 

It had indeed been an entire month since the shooting —one of the best and worst months of Harry's life. The best because he was back with the man he could now admit to himself and everyone else that he loved. He'd even sent an info-vid to Amanda, telling her she didn't have to wait for him because he'd found someone else. He didn't exactly say who but he thought she could probably draw her own conclusions since there were no female students or staff at the Academy. As for his parents, he had decided to tell them in his own time. They would know soon enough anyway if the news vids kept digging to find out exactly how a Neddle was operated. Already there had been some speculation as the entire world gained a new interest in the technology that had saved the planet. Harry frankly didn't care what came out or who knew what went on between a pilot and his gunner once they were locked in the Needle together and soaring in the deep dark —as long as he had Tomlinson's love to sustain him they could weather any storm together.

But even as he was reveling in the return of his partner, it was the worst month of his life as well. That was because he knew the minute Tomlinson was completely better he would be transferring from the Academy to Fleet Headquarters on the far side of Mars. He was already missing the tall Needler and wondering how he would deal with his jealousy, knowing that Tomlinson was flying with another man. But he tried to put those thoughts out of his head and just concentrate on being with his partner while he still had him.

During Tomlinson's recovery he'd skipped classes with abandon to be with him, spending endless days in the infirmary talking and playing cards as the two of them got to know each other all over again. What Harry liked best though were the times when Tomlinson would take his hand, look into his eyes and tell Harry exactly what he was going to do to him once he got well. They had more than one mutual jerk-off session whenever the medi-tech was out of the infirmary but it wasn't the same as being able to shower and sleep with and care for his partner as far as Harry was concerned. He missed all those things terribly but he couldn't help realizing that once Tomlinson was well enough to come back to their old quarters where they would have privacy for such activities, he would also be well enough to transfer to the Fleet.

For weeks he'd tried not to think about the inevitable day when the transfer would occur but now he couldn't help myself. Tomlinson supposed it was their room again now that Tomlinson had abandoned his other temporary quarters, not that it made much difference. No doubt in the next day or so he would be gone. Harry began to feel a dull misery somewhere in the region of his chest. Once Tomlinson left he wouldn't be able to see his partner for two more years until he graduated and joined the Fleet himself. And who knew what might happen in that amount of time?

 

"Well, here we are." Harry stopped dead in front of the familiar dull silver door that led to their quarters. He found that he was overwhelmed with emotions —fear that tonight might be the last night he spent with his lover, desire when he remembered that they would have privacy at last and a fair amount of anxiety when he thought of some of the fantasies the tall, scarred Needler has whispered to him during the long days and nights they had spent in the infirmary together while Tomlinson recovered.

"Here we are," Tomlinson echoed and gave Harry his old, familiar sarcastic grin. "Well, are we gonna go in or are you waiting for me to carry you over the threshold, Green Eyes?"

"Yeah, whatever," Harry muttered nervously as the door swooshed open. He didn't quite know what to expect, he only knew this was going to be the first time he was alone with Tomlinson since the night of the Saudeber invasion. Almost two months of sexual tension was stored up between them —just the thought of it made Harry feel as if a kaleidoscope of butterflies had taken off inside his stomach. The door swooshed shut and he turned to face his partner, uncertain what would happen next.

"Alone at last." Tomlinson stepped forward and draped his arms loosely over Harry's shoulders. Leaning down, he nuzzled Harry's forehead with his own, looking into his eyes. "You don't know how much I've been looking forward to this." Unzipping Harry's high uniform collar, he pressed a slow, hot kiss to the side of his neck.

 

Harry felt the breath catch in his throat as his pulse raced out of control. The hot, wet mouth on his throat made his cock instantly hard and suddenly all his worries about what might happen between them melted away. He knew exactly what he wanted —to be naked with his partner, to feel that lean, muscular body pressed against his, holding him, topping him, showing him that Tomlinson felt as much for Harry as Harry felt for him.

 

"God, I've missed you. Missed this," Tomlinson whispered in his hair and leaned in to capture Harry's mouth with his own. Harry melted against him, giving in to the kiss completely in a way he never would have thought possible before coming to the Academy. He could admit to himself now that Tomlinson's kisses stirred him as Amanda's never had. That he had been waiting to give himself, to be the submissive instead of the dominant in a relationship for almost as long as he'd been alive.

 

Reaching up, he found the zipper of Tomlinson's uniform and pulled it all the way down, exposing the thick club of Tomlinson's cock. Moaning softly with desire, he dropped to his knees and looked up at his partner... his lover... his master.

 

"I'm at your service," he murmured huskily before taking the long, thick shaft in one hand feeding it hungrily into his mouth.

 

Tomlinson groaned and buried both hands in Harry's curls, clearly enjoying the intimate kiss as Harry swirled his tongue around his partner's cock and lapped eagerly at the head, drinking the salty, bitter precum that was flowing from its tip. He fucked gently into Harry's mouth, murmuring endearments and encouragement, telling Harry how beautiful he was when he sucked cock, how good his mouth  felt wrapped around his shaft. But long before Harry felt the pulsing rush of his partner's cum at the back of his throat, Tomlinson stopped. He pulled Harry gently away from his still hard cock and motioned for him to stand.

 

"What? You didn't like it?" Harry looked at his partner, confused. His shaft was rock-hard and leaking precum inside his uniform and his lips felt swollen from sucking Tomlinson's thick cock. And yet he hadn't wanted it to end. Hadn't wanted to get off his knees and stop servicing his partner until he felt the hot gush of cum pulsing into his mouth.

"I loved it." Tomlinson kissed him thoroughly, clearly enjoying his own taste in Harry's mouth. "But that's not the way I want it to go this time. I want to do something else."

"What?" Harry's heart was in his mouth —he was certain he knew what his partner wanted. He was over their encounter the night of the invasion but it was still a little frightening to contemplate being fucked again. He knew Tomlinson would be gentle, knew he wouldn't hurt Harry if he could help it, but the memory of that tearing pain just wouldn't leave him.

"Not what you think," Tomlinson said gently, obviously reading the fear on his face. "The exact opposite, in fact." Taking a step back, he stepped out of his uniform and boots and stood before Harry completely nude. There was only a small, white scar on the left side of his chest where the blast from the pulse rifle had entered although Harry knew the scarring on his back was more extensive. Leaning forward, Tomlinson kissed him again and then lay face down on the navy blue coverlet and looked up at him expectantly.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Harry looked at him uncertainly, wondering what his partner wanted.

"What do you think? Getting in position so you can fuck me." Tomlinson rested his chin on his crossed arms and looked up at him, the hint of a sarcastic smile playing around the corners of his narrow mouth. But his ice blue eyes were deadly serious.

"What?" It was so completely unexprected that Harry hardly knew what to say. He was certain he was hearing things. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said I want you to fuck me." Tomlinson spread his thighs invitingly, his eyes hooded as he stared up at Harry. "I'm at your service, Green Eyes. Take me any way you want —hard and fast, long and slow— whatever you need, any way you want to do it. Just do it."

"I...I..." Harry wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation. Part of him understood that Tomlinson was offering him something he had probably never offered anyone before. But another part was still confused. Did the other Needler really want him to do this? Or was he just trying to make up for the night he had taken Harry by necessity? "You don't have to do this, you know," he said at last, finally getting his thoughs together. "To make up for before, I mean."

"Yes, I do." Tomlinson gave him a level stare. "I was wrong to do what I did that night and I want to make things right between us. But it's not just that, Green Eyes —I _want_ you inside me. And I can honestly say I've never felt like that before with anyone. I told you once that while we were in our quarters together we were equals. So here's your chance to top me for a change. Are you telling me you don't want to do it?"

"I didn't say that." Harry got out of his clothes quickly, drinking in the sight of his partner's long, lean body laid out on the bed in front of him like a visual feast. He could just imagine how incredible it would feel to press his aching cock into Tomlinson's tightness, to feel that warm, muscular body quivering under his as he pounded into the other Needler. It was a hot picture, one that had him throbbing with need, but he wasn't quite sure it felt right to him.

"Come on then." Tomlinson gave him another inviting smile and spread his thighs a little wider. "I left the lube in my side of the dresser," he added, nodding at the plasti-wood dresser he and Harry shared. "I was hoping you'd use it."

"Hoping I would? Why wouldn't I?" Harry looked at him in confusion as he got the small tube Tomlinson was talking about. He knew exactly where it was, having gone through the drawers several times while he was missing his partner.

"I hurt you when I fucked you." Tomlinson looked at him seriously. "I didn't mean to but I did. And I want you to know that if you want to hurt me back —just this once— it's okay. I'll take the pain with the pleasure of having you top me, Green Eyes. Like I said, any way you want to do it."

"God!" Harry threw the small tube down on the bed and sat on the mattress beside his partner. "Louis," he said softly," I don't want to hurt you any more than you wanted to hurt me. I just... I just want to be close to you."

"Get close then." Tomlinson smiled up at him invitingly. "Come on, Harry, fuck me."

 

The hot words snapped something deep inside Harry's chest and suddenly he wanted the dark, scarred man as he had never wanted anything or anyone before. But as for getting Tomlinson ready, he knew what he wanted to do. Leaving the tube of lubricant where it had fallen on the coverlet; he knelt down and pressed his face between Tomlinson's thighs.

His partner's spicy, masculine musk was strong here. Harry felt intoxicated by it as he lapped at the back of Tomlinson's sac, savoring the salty taste of his skin. He felt the lean body beneath him tremble and heard his partner give a long, drawn-out sigh. That sound alone was enough to send another surge to his cock and he pressed eagerly forward, sucking his partner's balls into his mouth one at a time and laving them gently with his tongue. But it still wasn't enough. What he wanted more than anything was to explore Tomlinson the way his partner had explored him. He wanted to kiss him, taste him, press his tongue deep inside Tomlinson's tight entrance. Another low moan from his partner was all it took to push Harry over the edge. Leaning forward, he dragged his in order to reach his target. Nipping delicately, he circled the tight ring of muscle with his tongue before plunging the tip inside, pressing forward to enter Tomlinson as deeply as he could.

 

" _God!_ " The long, lean body bucked under him as Tomlinson gave a hoarse shout of pleasure. Reveling in the feeling of power it gave him to do this, Harry pressed deeper, kissing and licking, opening his partner to his assault completely. He wanted to go on forever but Tomlinson was writhing under him, telling Harry in a deep growl that he couldn't take it anymore. That he wanted Harry to finish it. To fuck him.

 

Reluctantly, Harry rose from his prone position and settled on his knees between Tomlinson's legs. His partner was already on his hands and knees, spread wide and ready to accept Harry's cock where his tongue had so lately been. And Harry was more than ready to fuck him. The head of his cock was beaded with precum and he thought he would die if he didn't get some relief soon. Kneeling between his partner's thighs, he fitted the flared head of his shaft to the tight entrance of Tomlinson's body and prepared to fuck.

But something stopped him.

He liked the idea of being inside his partner, of topping him, taking him and shooting his cum deep inside Tomlinson's body. But it wasn' nearly as appealing as having the situation reversed. _I want him_ , Harry understood suddenly as he hesitated between Tomlinson's thighs. _I want him but not this way. This isn't the last memory I want to have of him before we part. This isn't the way I want to remember being with him._ Suddenly he knew what he had to do.

 

His hesitation wasn't lost on Tomlinson. He craned his head around, a question in his ice blue eyes. "Harry, are you all right?" he asked, obviously wondering why Harry didn't just go ahead and do it.

"Fine." Harry withdrew and lay on the bed beside his partner, looking up at the still kneeling Tomlinson. "I'm fine but I can't do this. Don't want to do this."

"Why not?" Tomlinson lay down beside him, propped up on one elbow so that he could study Harry's face with his serious blue eyes.

"Because this isn't the way it's supposed to be between us." Harry reached up and stroked his partner's scarred cheek, hoping Tomlinson would understand. "I never knew I had it in me to let someone else take me, top me, until I met you," he whispered, looking at Tomlinson intently. "I never knew I could want that until you showed me. But now, well, that's all I want. I want to... want to feel you on top of me. Inside me. Not the other way around."

Tomlinson frowned seriously. "Are you sure about this, Green Eyes? The last time we did this I was pretty rough on you. I was sure it would take you a long time to want to do it again —if you ever did at all."

"No, I want it." Harry swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. "I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't scared to death but I do —I want to feel you inside me. Taking me. Riding me." He took a deep, trembling breath and looked deep into Tomlinson's ice blue eyes. "Fuck me, Louis. _I want you to_."

Tomlinson caressed his cheek gently with one hand, a look of tenderness suffusing his dark, scarred face. "I can't think of anything I want to do more than give you a long, slow, gently fuck, Green Eyes. If you really want this, I want it too."

 

Unable to answer in words, Harry turned on his stomach and got up on his hands and knees. He spread his thighs as Tomlinson had for him and waited with his eyes squeezed shut in breathless anticipation.

 

"Relax," Tomlinson stroked his back soothingly, his large hand warm against Harry's spine. "We're going to take it real slow and easy this time, Harry. I want you to see that it doesn't have to hurt. That it can feel good to give yourself up completely."

"All right." Harry tried to loosen the tension in his muscles but it wasn't easy. His mind kept replaying the first time —the feeling of Tomlinson's thick cock ramming into him in one hard thrust and the tearing, stretching pain that followed. He was over all that now, after all, it had been months since it happened. But still...

 

 _I'm still just nervous_ , he told himself. _But I don't have to be. Everything is going to be okay. It's all going to be fine..._

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt Tomlinson rubbing the cool, slick lube across his opening. Harry bit back a gasp as his partner continued to stroke him, performing a long, slow, thorough massage of the tight ring of muscles guaring his entrance. It felt so good and Harry was aching to be penetrated by the time two long, gentle fingers entered him and scissored carefully to spread him wide.

 

" _God!_ " he gasped, unable to help himself.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Tomlinson sounded both amused and aroused as he continued to open Harry slowly. With his other hand he was stroking Harry's aching cock and tight balls, making sure that the pleasure rolled over Harry in waves as he finger-fucked him.

"Feels incredible," Harry admitted. "But, Louis, I think I'm gonna lose it if you don't fuck me soon. Please, I need you in me."

"And I need to be in you, Green Eyes. Just wanted to be sure you were ready to take me." Tomlinson added another finger while he spoke, stretching Harry gently until he groaned.

"I'm ready," he pleaded, hoping it was true. "Please, Louis, _now._ "

"All right." Tomlinson withdrew his fingers and got behind Harry, stroking his hips and ass soothingly as he positioned his cock against Harry's opening.

 

For a moment when Harry felt the moist, blunt probe of his partner's cock pressed against his entrence, he wasn't sure he could go through with it. But the sound of Tomlinson murmuring soothing nothings in his ear and the gentle touch of his partner's hands on his body helped him stop trembling and hold still. _I'm ready for this. I want this. I need this_ , Harry told himself fiercely and knew it was true. He was born to be topped by the tall, scarred man who was currently pressing the broad head of his cock against his ass. Born to be loved and laid by Tomlinson and Tomlinson alone and if this was the last time they could be together for two whole years, this was the memory he wanted to carry in his heart until he could see his partner again.

 

"Easy, Harry. Take it easy," Tomlinson was murmuring softly. He had eased the head of his cock into Harry's tight entrance and was slowly, carefully, pressing inch thick inch deeper into his body. "Take it easy, Green Eyes. Just open up and let me fuck you."

 

Harry moaned and tried not to clench up around the shaft that was entering him, knowing that Tomlinson was taking things as slowly and carefully as was humanly possible. He wasn't feeling as much pain this time but there was still the sensation of being stretched, of being opened and filled, which felt unnatural and foreign to him. But despite the strangeness of the situation, it felt right too, he realized. Right to spread himself and let Tomlinson fuck him. Right to open himself for another man. Right to submit.

 

"I love you," he gasped as he felt the final inch press deep into him and knew that Tomlinson had bottomed out inside him. "God, I love you so much, Louis."

"I love you too, Harry." Tomlinson had one hand on his hips and the other was still stroking his cock firmly. "Love to be with you. Love to kiss you and taste you and touch you. Love to fuck you."

"God, then fuck me!" Suddenly Harry couldn't wait anymore. He leaned forward so that two or three inches of the thick shaft left his body and then slammed back against Tomlinson, moaning low in his throat as he felt the broad head rub hard over the spot deep inside him that sent shattering bolts of pleasure through his entire body.

 

Tomlinson seemed to understand that the period of adjustment was over, that Harry was used to having his cock buried deep in his body and wanted more. Bracing one hand on Harry's hip, he pulled back and pressed forward, thrusting as deeply as he could, angling his cock to deliberately rub against the spot inside Harry over and over again.

Harry felt lost in a haze of pleasure. This was nothing like the first time Tomlinson had fucked him when he had resented every stroke and felt the tearing pain with every thrust. This time everything was pleasure, a pleasure so intense he didn't know how he could stand it. But every time he thought he was going to come, he felt Tomlinson's hand circle the base of his cock and squeeze mercilessly, holding off his impending orgasm and pushing the pleasure into a higher plane. It seemed to go on forever and he found that he was backing up shamelessly to meet the other man's thrusts into his body, gasping and begging his partner to fuck him harder, and moaning that he needed to come, needed to come so bad...

 

"Come then," Tomlinson finally whispered in his ear. With a last, hard thurst he drove himself as deeply into Harry's quivering body as he could and Harry felt him pulsing, filling him completely with his cum. At the same time Tomlinson's large hand stroked him firmly from root to tip, giving Harry permission to come himself. With a low shout, Harry did, fountaining into his partner's palm as he lost himself in the pleasure of being completely taken and thoroughly mastered. Of being topped.

 

 

**...**

 

 

Harry sighed happily as he curled up in bed, facing his partner. He felt wonderful. A little sore perhaps but nothing like last time. Mostly he was enjoying the feeling of being close to his lover and feeling completely worn out —but in a good way.

 

"Mmm, that was worth waiting for." Tomlinson hummed contentedly. He stroked a shaggy curl away from Harry's forehead. "You know, you look just like you did that first day I saw you in the hallway. I think your hair has finally grown back from that disastrous haircut."

"I never thought when I first saw you shoving Burns up against the wall and acting like an arrogant upperclass prick that you'd ever be my partner." Harry smiled to take the sting out of his words. "Or that I could want to do what we just did with another guy."

Tomlinson kissed him gently. "It's hard to admit to yourself that you want this —what we have. But once you do, you realize that everything else is just a cheap substitute. That's why I told Tara the wedding is off."

"You did?" Harry looked at him, wide-eyed. "Man, I bet she was pissed off. Why did you do it though? I thought she knew all about you and was cool with it."

"She was but I realized I would just be marrying her for my parents. They kept hoping that if I had a wife to come home to when I took shore leave, they might eventually get some grandchildren out of the deal. And I just decided... why should I care what they think? You know my father wouldn't even come to see me after Burns shot me?"

"He wouldn't?" Harry frowned. He had been certain that Tomlinson had gotten family visits in the brief intervals when Harry left to shower and grab a quick bite to eat but apparently not.

Tomlinson's eyes were hard and cold. "No, he just sent my mother to make sure I was going to make it. He only came up here for graduation in the first place because he knew it wouldn't look good if he didn't. And now he's shitting his pants with fear that the rest of the world will find out exactly what goes on up here when we fly. That all his friends and neighbors will find out that his son is a faggot."

"If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure my parents aren't going to be thrilled either." Harry sighed. "And they may find out sooner than the news vids can break the story. I sent Amanda an info-vid and let her know she shouldn't wait for me."

"Why?" Tomlinson looked at him intently.

"I told her... that I'd found someone else." Harry looked down as if memorizing the broad, muscular planes of his partner's chest. "I mean, there's no sense in her waiting down there for me, for something that's never going to happen while up here I'm waiting for you..." He sighed. "I think that's why I didn't want to admit that we needed to have a perfect connection that night we flew against the Lobsters. Because I knew you were leaving so soon and I didn't want to take that last step, to admit that I really was, well you know... that I liked guys more than girls, I guess, if you weren't going to be with me."

"But I _am_ here with you," Tomlinson reminded him gently lifting Harry's chin so they were eye to eye.

"Not for long." Harry swallowed hard, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. "You're better now. You'll be leaving to go to the Fleet and fly with... with that Jorgensen guy any day now."

"No, _I'm not_." Tomlinson shook his head, a little smile playing around the corners of his sensual mouth. "I'm staying right here with you until you graduate and then we'll take a commission in the Fleet together. If you want to, that is." He sounded just a tiny bit anxious, which surprised Harry —the tall Needler was always so supremely confident and sure of himself.

"How can you ask that? Of course I want you to stay," he said at once, searching Tomlinson's eyes with his own. "But how?"

His partner smiled more fully now. "Well, you know Captain Godfrey who teaches the Basics of Flight class?"

Harry nodded. "Uh-huh. He's older than God. Puts me to sleep every time."

"Well let's hope I can keep people awake a little better than he can," Tomlinson said dryly. "He's retiring and they offered me his job —just until you graduate of course. And then we can go to the Fleet together. Or anywhere else for that matter." He leaned down and gave Harry a quick kiss on the lips. "After all," he murmured, "we don't have to be up in a Needler for me to fuck you."

"God!" Harry kissed him back, feeling almost lightheaded with relief. "So you're going to take it? You're going to stay here with me, even after the way I acted?"

Tomlinson looked serious. "I think we both have some regrets to put behind us. But yeah —I'm staying here with you. Because that's the only place I want to be. Here, in our bed with my arms wrapped around you, Green Eyes. I never want to let you go."

"You'll never have to," Harry promised him. Then in a sudden move he rolled them over so that he was straddling Tomlinson, their hard cock rubbing together like hot silk over steel. "Now how about round two, partner?"

 

 

**THE END**


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